Sticks of Fire: a Tampa blog

What’s the statute of limitations on claiming you’re “new in town”? This past weekend marked a year since I moved to Pinellas from New Tampa, and yet I’m still using the “new in town” trick to explain why I don’t really know anyone on this side of the bay. I made my core group of friends in New Tampa less than a week after moving to Florida; why, then, have I had such a struggle with building a similar social life here in Pinellas?

We ethnographers often use studies in contrasts to better understand the culture we’re observing. By looking at oxymorons or anachronisms we can get to what’s really happening. With that in mind, I headed Friday to Dunedin’s Martini Club to watch my favorite local band, Basic Rock Outfit. Having been juiced by their great performance at the LA Hangout on Thursday night (covered on my own blog) I was excited to see them again, and at a place practically down the street compared to all the way over in Lutz.

The fact I like BRO is itself a contradiction; I’m usually not into the heavier rock styles, but these guys really melt your face off and have some beautiful songs. They’re going to hit it big, and they play shows five nights a week all over the Bay area, so I encourage you to check them out. Dunedin’s Martini Club is across the street from Knology Park, on the currently-under-construction Douglas Ave. Douglas Avenue has been a wreck for months, and I’m told they won’t be able to pave it until a full day comes along without rain, which in August is unlikely, and it was probably not the best idea to execute a street repaving in the summer, but that’s Pinellas County for you.

You might think, given its name, that Martini Club would be a high-class, ritzy place, like Blue Martini or Martini Bar. It is not. I don’t mean that in any negative manner, seriously. Martini Club is more of a “roadhouse” feel, dirty and smoky and filled with trucker-capped mulleted locals, drinking $1.50 PBRs. BRO was up to their usual rockingness, and during their first break I struck up a few conversations, as I usually do in places where I don’t know anyone.

A balding man in a grey tank top and missing a few teeth asked me what I did.

“I teach,” I answered.

“What do you teach?”

“Persuasion.”

“Well how can I persuade you to get outta my f*ckin’ face?”

I felt like I’d fallen into some kind of comedic trap. Yet this is the kind of response I’ve gotten everywhere in Pinellas, be it the bookstore, supermarket, or St. Pete Beach cabana bar. I’m not sure what the hangup is, but it’s some insight into the barriers I’ve found on this side of the bay. (I should note that the Martini Club bartenders were fantastic and the friendliest people in the bar.)

It was nice, though, to see how well people took to the band; most of the bar’s patrons had never heard of Basic Rock Outfit, and I saw several purchasing CDs as the bar was closing (at the odd time of 1:30) which made me happy, though three hours of mingling hadn’t resulted in a single conversation of more than a minute or so. I’ve often compared Hillsborough to Pinellas with a drug reference: “Tampa is to St. Pete as coke is to weed.” After a year of living on this side, I’m not sure the analogy works anymore.

Maybe I’ll figure it out eventually. After all, I’m new in town.

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