And Finally...Sunday Night in Glasgow

Sorry for the delay, (very) faithful readers. As you may have gathered, I have returned from Ireland and have gotten busy with work and friends and family; you know - life.

At any rate, my Sunday night in Glasgow: if you remember (or scroll down), it was a weekend of drizzling and downpouring interspersed with periods of overcastness. After my day out and about, I regrouped at my hotel to consider my last night there. I wasn't necessarily looking to fill in a gap, but I didn't want to do nothing on my last night in Scotland. After consulting my guidebook, I ventured out in my L.L.Bean supercoat to a steady rain.

As I passed the Western Bar, just outside my hotel, I noticed it (much like the subway in Glasgow) was closed for Sunday. But, I thought to myself, that was a rinky-dink local dive bar without much character or clientele. I had a couple of pubs picked out from the guidebook that seemed to offer more. I crossed the River Kelvin, which was raging from the steady rain. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but between the rain and the nighttime and the meandering Scottish streets, I wandered and wandered without finding either of the two pubs I had hoped to find. Eventually I even had to resort to picking a direction and walking until I found a street intersection that was also on my map.

I did finally find such an intersection. I realized that I wasn't about a bit over a mile from the hotel but no closer to the pubs I sought. Standing under a storefront awning, I looked through the guidebook for an alternative destination based on one criteria: proximity. As luck would have it, around the corner were two pubs that the book gave solid reviews. And as luck would further have it, I found the first one straightaway. However, as bad luck would have it, it was closed. That made two closed pubs, and the rain had not eased. The last pub was still about five blocks away. I debated for a long while under another awning. Was it worth it to walk another half mile in the rain for a pub that might well be closed? It was still only about 8 p.m., but it was still pouring and I had to catch a flight the next day. I went back and forth for a few minutes but finally my sense of adventure won out. After all, who knows when would I next be in Glasgow? This turned out to be the best decision of the trip, other than avoiding haggis.

A few minutes later I found myself inside the cozy Uisge Beatha, which is Scots Gaelic for 'gathering of undiscovered folk talent.' I shook the water off myself and headed up to the bar. The bartender was wearing - and I am not making this up - a kilt and construction boots. And I can say this with confidence: it was not a gimmick. I was happy that there was a nice fire going, but I was a bit disappointed that there were only two or three people there. I got a pint of Tennet's and was about sit down, reserved to a lackluster night. Then I realized that there was another room off to the left. I pushed through the door and: Xanadu.



There was a collection of perhaps 30 people, most sitting at long beerhouse style tables, with a few gathered at the front of the room with instruments. I had happened upon a sort of open mic night for Scots. But they have a bit of a different take. First of all, it's a folk music deal. No amps or microphones. Just whatever you can generate on your own. Second, no one plays sets, they just take turns, one song each. And most interesting, if anyone else knows the tune, they just jump right in.

A song had just finished as I entered and after the applause died out, a man who looked very much like Don Ameche put his hands on his knees and began to sing a capella. This is how good he was: had he had accompaniment, it would have ruined it. He had a delicate unforced voice that sounded perfect but seemed effortless. He sang a pretty amusing song, too. It's called "Lookin' for a Job," and the chorus goes like this:

I'm looking for a job with a sky-high pay
A four day week and a two hour day
Maybe it's because I'm inclined that way
But I never did like being... i-dle!

Although the room was fairly large, the folk music, dark wood, candlelight and stained glass windows made it feel extraodinarily intimate. I stayed for a few hours and listened to round after round of songs - titles like Ramblin' Boy, I Guess I'll Have to Do It While I'm Here, and On the Banks of the Clyde. Don Ameche stole the show about four times. The others were all talented as well, and had D.A. not been there I still would have raved about the experience, but the others either were better at playing than singing, or a touch hesitant, or were missing something intangible that would make them great. I'll put it this was: the Don Ameche guy's demeanor was like a grandfather telling bedtimes stories to us kids.

So, at about the last possible moment, I think I found the perfect Glasgow experience.