Over The Frozen River To Fetch A Beer

It truly was a rough week, Modern Philosophers, as you can tell from the photo, and I was determined to get the weekend off on an entirely different foot.

So I broke with my normal routine of relaxing at The House on the Hill after grocery shopping, and accepted and invitation for a drink.

I suppose it was a date.  The young woman in question does tickle my fancy, but given the way my dating life has gone lately, it probably would’ve been safer to think of it as just drinks with an attractive friend.

I took the short walk across the Penobscot River to meet her at a sports bar infamous for its fried pickles.  Here are some photos of my perilous adventure…

Yes, Modern Philosophers, that is the once mighty Penobscot River.  Even though Spring is desperately trying to assert itself, the river is still trapped under a sheet of ice.

That is Bangor across the way.  Another one of those giant holes was out there, looking suspiciously like some creature from a Stephen King novel had exploded out from under the ice.  I wonder if it has killed anyone yet…

Upon further inspection, it looks like the ice wants to crack, but just hasn’t had enough motivation to follow through on the idea.

Maybe some warm, sunny days will finally do the trick!

I just really like taking photos of that blowhole in the ice.  I wonder if more than one creature has emerged from the river through that exit…

The ice does go on forever.  I had heard that the Coast Guard had sent cutters up this way to break up the ice, but perhaps they never made it this far up the river.

Or maybe whatever exploded out from under the ice prevented the Coasties from completing their task…

The view from the other side of the bridge reveals that there is no end in sight to the great ice blanket.  Will the Penobscot River ever be free from its frozen prison?

Even the railroad tracks can’t seem to shake Winter…

Downtown Bangor.  That car seems to be going through a red light while going the wrong way down the street.  An intriguing way to beat rush hour traffic I guess…

The bar was right across the street from the jail.  How cozy is that?  Perhaps a metaphor for dating, Modern Philosophers?

The much needed drink that awaited me at the other end of the bridge.  No, the shot is not mine, but maybe I should’ve downed that, too.

I can’t remember what kind of beer I ordered, but it was a much less complicated process than my friend’s ordering that shot.  It was quite the experience.

Good practice for my next date, which I hope is not so far in the distant future.  I really am trying to find someone special, but I guess I’m not very good at this game…