the cock & bull

So when my colleague and I arrived at the CVG airport in Kentucky, it was early evening but hot and steamy like a sauna. We took an annoying little van to the AVIS car rental center. At the AVIS desk the man asked me if I wanted a purple PT Cruiser. I said: "Not that I don't want to be adventurous; but I really won't fit in it. I'll take the Impala, please." As we set off for the hotel, it started to rain a little. Half an hour later we arrived in the riverfront area of Covington right across the Ohio river from downtown Cincinnati. All the while we were scoping out the area restaurants. We had been delayed for about an hour back in Newark, due to the approaching storms; so I was hungry after not eating for about 7 hours (that is, if you don't count the racket ball-sized sandwich on the plane). We were not encouraged by what we saw: the hotel straddled a "White Castle". We got into the lobby to check in, and immediately started questioning the staff about nearby restaurants. We asked about Thai restaurants in particular. This is a force of habit of mine when I arrive in a new city; and it usually pans out. But Thai restaurants, in northern Kentucky? There are none, technically. There's one just one in the area, but it's on the Cincinnati side, across the river in Mt. Adams. It wasn't that far, but we didn't want to get involved in getting on the highway and getting lost. Plus, I planned on drinking- so the closer the better. We thought about copping out and walking to the nondescript riverfront bar & grill behind the hotel; but at this point something inside us yearned for something "local". They suggested the nearby "German Village", or MainStrasse Villiage, as it is actually called. They specifically suggested "Dee Felice", a fancy Cajun restaurant & jazz bar. That sounded about right. We hopped right back into the car and headed over. The sun was getting low in the sky, cooling off, with a light breeze; it felt nice to be outside. MainStrasse Village is a broad street 4 blocks long, with a grassy strip in the center with trees, benches, fountains, historic plaques, etc. But please don't picture the Main Street in Santa Monica or something like that, think: New Hope, PA. It'll be a cold day in Hell when they hold a farmer's market here. Restored 19th-century homes, kitschy shops, quirky restaurants, and authentic pubs. Not a Starbucks for light years. The many bikers we saw coming and going are not there for fresh produce; they want beer steins, bangers & mash, and authentic weapons and armor from Gothic Edge. They host things like the "Goettafest & River Raid Renaissance Festival". What more could you ask for? We drove around looking for a parking spot, and eventually found our way over to Dee Felice. We looked inside: nearly empty, white tablecloths, dimly lit. Not bad. We looked across the street. There was a rundown old pub, with many sidewalk tables, filled local-types, all drinking beer out of large mugs. Oh yeah. The Cock & Bull, has en amazing selection of random imported beers on tap. Sweet. I drank a couple of Red Legg Ale's. I took the waitresses recommendation and had the "award winning" fish & chips with cole slaw. It was amazing. As we drank and ate I learned my co-worker is the son of an iconic Polish political dissident writer, a figurehead among the anti-communists before and after the Soviet Union dissolved. Very interesting. After eating, we wandered over to a plaque at the center of the village, with the words "Slave Escape" in large letters. It was a Historical marker Dedicated to the Slave Escape and the Memory of Margaret Garner, inspiration for Beloved. I had no idea I was getting drunk at such an historic location. When I got back to the hotel we lugged in all our bags and went up to our rooms. I was half way through saying "goodnight" to my co-worker as the elevator door closed- a little slow from the travel and the beer. I arrived at my room and collapsed on the bed. I looked over and saw I had a balcony. I went out, to admire the view. Not bad. I looked down and saw the White Castle drive through; the line was 4 or 5 cars long. People lining up, in their not-quite-fancy convertibles, blasting whatever crappy popular music. Eager for the nasty, tiny sandwiches that are many times more inedible than what I had on the plane. Ridiculous.