{"id":184,"date":"2008-12-14T10:18:31","date_gmt":"2008-12-14T15:18:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.greatsociety.org\/?p=184"},"modified":"2018-10-31T09:15:00","modified_gmt":"2018-10-31T13:15:00","slug":"sunday-archive-xxiv-american-braves-part-four-of-four","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/?p=184","title":{"rendered":"Sunday Archive XXIV: American Braves, Part Four of Four"},"content":{"rendered":"

And the end of the American Braves<\/em> story.\u00a0 It’s really annoying when it’s spread over four weeks, eh?<\/p>\n

We ended up at a crazy bar, which I must go visit again, run by the guy who wrote Rhyme & Punishment<\/a>, which I’ve forgotten entirely.\u00a0 And who knows if he’s still around eight years later?<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Is it \u2018Bobby\u2019?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Liam insisted that we find the worst and most dangerous place to spend the night – dirty sheets and blood-splattered shower stalls were the goal.\u00a0 We looked at several motels but were unable to find the examples of plague and brutality that would make Liam happy.\u00a0 We settled on the \u201cOh! Shaw\u201d for several reasons.\u00a0 One was that it looked like it had survived several hurricanes and the other was the blank, slightly crazed look the owner’s wife gave us when we asked if they\u00a0took credit cards.\u00a0\u00a0 They don\u2019t take them, silly.<\/p>\n

When we first pulled into the Oh! Shaw\u2019s parking lot, Liam and I were afraid to enter the dilapidated front office.\u00a0 Behind the office (which was also a home for a medium-sized family) was a run down L-shaped motor-lodge (about 15 rooms) and several Friday the 13th-style box cabins.\u00a0 We sent Donald and Teresa in to check on prices while Liam kept the car in gear and I watched for trouble.<\/p>\n

The Spanish returned with pleasant smiles and invited us in.\u00a0 All looked okay and the Oh! Shaw\u2019s owners were glad to talk to us.\u00a0 We spoke at length about the Amish and, though the owners said nothing outright, it became apparent that they had written the Amish off as communists long ago.\u00a0 Three exotic birds chirped and flicked sunflower seeds at us while we talked.\u00a0 A large cockatoo occasionally fluttered over to the owners arm, leaving only when he raised his voice (usually in the direction of, but not directly to, his wife).<\/p>\n

The rooms hit $45 a night (the cheapest we found in the Dutch Country) and we spent a frenzied moment getting the cash together – handing over crumbled bills, rattling change and a few shirt buttons.<\/p>\n

The rooms had no telephone and the TV’s looked as if they had just been added a few days ago – power cords and cable lines stretched across the walls and ceiling.\u00a0\u00a0 We would have to sleep exposed to the night air since the windows facing the cornfield wouldn\u2019t close.<\/p>\n

Without a doubt,\u00a0 the \u201cOh! Shaw\u201d was one of the most comfortable and refreshing motel stays I’ve had.\u00a0 The bed was soft, the shower had strong hot water and you could spend long hours of the evening on a swing watching the traffic jam on US30.\u00a0 I give the Oh! Shaw 5 out of 5 crazy Americana points.<\/p>\n

We arrived at the Oh! Shaw motel in an exhausted, strung out state of mind.\u00a0 Our early morning start and several hours of backwater Americana adventuring had put all of us in a warped mood.\u00a0 Donald and Teresa, with a few muttered curses in Spanish, retreated to their room while Liam and I placed a quick call to our Lancaster County Guide, Maddie.\u00a0 Our plans had been a Lancaster City pub-crawl, perhaps a knock down fight with Amish youths and, certainly, some sort of action with Asian prostitutes.\u00a0 At least, that\u2019s what I had on my \u201cto do\u201d list.\u00a0 In our current state of mind, however, we were more interested in sleeping for at least 18 hours.\u00a0 But Maddie, who would receive free beer in quantity for her guide services, refused to let us back out of our Saturday evening plans.\u00a0 She had an alternative in mind \u2013 a visit to what is destined to be a classic Americana stop, the Corn Crib Restaurant between Atlen and Gap, PA.<\/p>\n

The Corn Crib is an instantly recognizable little roadhouse.\u00a0 The tail end of an airplane sticks out from the roof, a car and a fishing boat are smashed into the sides\u2026a classic example of kitsch Americana.\u00a0 Inside, the place is covered with mementos from past customers \u2013 pictures, signs, hundreds of autographed one-dollar bills, condoms, and napkins with scrawled love poems.\u00a0 Every inch of the wall and ceiling is coated with this stuff.\u00a0 In fuzzy shape, the sun setting hard into the Pennsylvania countryside, we marched up to the bar and settled down to sample the microbrews.\u00a0 Absorbed by the d\u00e9cor we were barely prepared for complicated social contact.\u00a0 It was hard enough to answer questions put forward by the timid bartender.\u00a0 The poor girl was on shaky ground the moment she failed to understand Liam\u2019s Australian accent and then she made the unforgivable mistake of offering Donald and Teresa too many options.\u00a0 I helped translate for Liam (\u201cHe said lager.\u00a0 Give him a Sam Adams.\u201d).\u00a0 The Spanish were easy to work with, they were assigned lagers and the bartender was under orders to keep it coming till somebody mentioned \u201cthe Empire\u201d.<\/p>\n

Social contact was stepped up a notch when a woman in a black bowler stepped up to us and began to seethe insults \u2013 not only about the food and the Corn Crib in general, but eventually against us.\u00a0 We decided to move to a table, only to be hounded by this woman.\u00a0 In the dining area, however, she seemed to relax a little and surprised us when she viciously chased a waitress over to our table.<\/p>\n

We watched her return to the bar, insulting whatever hapless patrons crossed her path.\u00a0 Quietly, we congratulated each other on avoiding what could have been a terrible confrontation.\u00a0 There was no time to enjoy this victory, however.\u00a0 A man in a matching bowler spun over to our table, grinned malevolently, and then asked us where we were from (the answer is always \u201cWashington, DC\u201d to avoid conversation, though Teresa answered formally in Spanish).\u00a0 The man rattled off some personal notes and proceeded to perform a series of long-winded but surprisingly adept parlor tricks.<\/p>\n

This was the owner,\u00a0 A. Charles (\u201cChuck\u201d) Artinian, author of\u00a0 Rhyme and Punishment<\/a>.\u00a0 He and his wife, Mary, are there each night to entertain the customers.\u00a0 Both in black bowlers, Mary\u2019s job is to insult you relentlessly.\u00a0 Charles, on the other hand, will perform countless magic tricks.\u00a0 As we would soon discover, neither of them will leave you alone.<\/p>\n

I found myself silently wishing for my second wind, a reawakening of my alcoholic genes and a shot of adrenaline for all of my traveling companions.\u00a0 The Corn Crib lends itself to insanity and, if in the proper mood, it could have been a wild night.\u00a0 Between Mary\u2019s catcalls from the bar and Chuck\u2019s near-drunken monologues about the beauty of Spain (Teresa let the cat out of the bag after 45 seconds of direct interrogation) the\u00a0 Corn Crib proved to be the most exciting experience of our trip.\u00a0 It outranked baking in the sun at the Maize Maze and it cleared the dark and evil undertones the Indian Steps Museum had left.\u00a0 Liam, a hopeless skeptic, became obsessed with debunking every trick Chuck could think of.\u00a0 Finally, towards the end of our dinner, Chuck pushed a snarling Mary aside and handed a hardback book to Maddie\u2019s husband.<\/p>\n

\u201cOpen it at random and pick a word.\u201d Chuck instructed.\u00a0 \u201cShow the word to Donald but don\u2019t show it to me.\u201d\u00a0 Chuck went over to the bar and chatted with a few patrons for a few seconds while Maddie\u2019s husband prowled through the book.\u00a0 He showed his selection to Donald and then closed the book, the signal for Chuck to return.<\/p>\n

The Corn Crib\u2019s magician called Mary over and had her stand in the center of the small dining room.<\/p>\n

Chuck turned to our table, \u201cI can guess that word.\u00a0 We\u2019ll have Mary help us out \u2013 \u201c Turning to his partner, he began to order her about the room.\u00a0 Left, right, three steps forward.\u00a0 Finally Mary was standing in front of a small plastic Christmas tree.\u00a0 On the tree, in place of a star, was an English policeman\u2019s hat.\u00a0 Chuck ordered Mary to put the hat on her head and, in triumph, turned to our table.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs the word \u2018Bobby\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

And so it was.\u00a0 Exhausted, half drunk, this was a profoundly religious experience.\u00a0 Chuck Artinian could read our minds.\u00a0 He was the Messiah.\u00a0 Liam, nearing desperation, told us it was light and mirrors.\u00a0 His protestations fell on deaf ears, the authority of skepticism crumbling with one word.<\/p>\n

——————–
\nTo get to the Corn Crib just make a right onto Route 41 from US 30 at Gap, PA.\u00a0 You can\u2019t miss it.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

And the end of the American Braves story.\u00a0 It’s really annoying when it’s spread over four weeks, eh? We ended up at a crazy bar, which I must go visit again, run by the guy who wrote Rhyme & Punishment, …<\/p>\n

Sunday Archive XXIV: American Braves, Part Four of Four<\/span> Read More »<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[53],"tags":[137,161],"class_list":["post-184","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-sunday-archive","tag-archives","tag-travel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/184","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=184"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/184\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":996,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/184\/revisions\/996"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=184"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=184"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=184"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}