Food and a flick at Smitty's Cinema

Going to the movies. It's been a fall-back option to the "What do you want to do tonight?" question for decades. It's not the most creative suggestion, but it works thanks to its simplicity and cheapness.

Dinner is inevitably added to the plan as a pre-movie warm up. But the thing about dinner is you're often compelled to, you know, talk. Have a conversation. Swap stories.

It's a lot of effort some nights. But try eating in silence just once and suddenly you're "awkward" and "no longer needed at the office."

Bless Smitty's Cinemas for providing a conversation-free dining experience. All you need to do is sit back, chew your fries and watch the big ol' screen up front.

Smitty's in Biddeford (there's also one in Sanford) looks like any other movie theater at the outset. Brightly patterned carpeting flecked with escapee popcorn, the scent of microwaved butter, the electronic gunfire of a video game audible from the arcade.

The real Smitty's draw isn't obvious until you press through the door to the theater. Goodbye rows of tightly packed seats. Hello table for six! Hello rolling, reclining chair from heaven!

There are a handful of tables in the theater - and rows of seats up front if you're really hankering for the traditional theater experience. If you didn't grab a menu from the ticket counter a waiter will bring you one. That's right - a waiter.

It's a dinner-while-you-movie kind of theater. The menu consists of the deep fried basics like chicken fingers and fries, burgers and nachos. Beer ($2.99 Bud, Bud Light, Michelob Light, Miller Light, Coors Light, Rolling Rock and Michelob Ultra), a few mixed drinks ($4.99 Bacardi and cola or Bacardi and punch) and even wine is available as well.

Doors open long before the movie starts, so you can snag a table and get chowin' if you don't want food distracting you from your movie concentration. But you can order when the lights go down, too, if you dig the screen-watching/burger-chewing combo.

The theater is dark during the movie, though still well-lit enough for you to see what you're eating. Three cheers for that - since we were brought a side sauce that appeared to be growing some sort of fuzz. The waitress apologized profusely for the hairy marinara, but the full bill came at the end of the meal. Oh well.

It's a different way to see a regular old movie - with a bigger screen than your apartment and more personal space than other theaters. And being able to sip a couple of beers while you watch (without having to hide the bottle under your coat jacket) is kind of nice.

It isn't gourmet dinning here, but that's not the point. You don't go FOR the food - you go because there IS food (and drink).

Beer Pong at CJ's Place

Yes, I said beer pong.

The game championed by college students across the country has taken a step toward legitimacy. Toward recognition. Maybe even, one day, the Olympics (or not).

Beer pong is no longer restricted to the dingy garages and brightly lit backyards of off-campus houses. CJ's Place (on Forest Ave. in Portland) has opened its arms and floorspace to the game - albeit in a slightly reduced form (water is used in the cups instead of beer, and you don't drink the water).

CJ's began the Tuesday event a few months ago without a lot of fanfare. When I first got wind of the goings on I couldn't help but disbelieve. Beer pong? In a bar? That just isn't right.

Or maybe it's oh-so-right.

I had to see for myself - there were too many questions. Is it a tournament? Are players really drinking cheap, flat beer (that's been touched by God-knows-who) from classic red Solo cups? Do the authorities know about this?

We finally rallied some people together last Tuesday and headed over just after 9:00 p.m. John "Terps" Everett (coworker and Bar Guider) had chatted with the daytime manager beforehand and was told there were four tables set up for the purpose of beer ponging - and that playing was first come, first serve. No high-stakes tournaments here. And while CJ's is packed wall to wall on Friday and Saturday nights - according to the manager - he wasn't sure what the Tuesday night crowd looked like.

Having seen it first hand, I can tell you: It looked like two guys at a table - and three or four more regulars hanging out at the bar (likely oblivious to this whole 'beer pong' nonsense).

There was no crowd.

I was surprised. It may be CJ's on a Tuesday, but beer pong has a pretty faithful following that I thought for sure would turn out. At least a handful anyway.

No matter, we had brought our own crowd of 10 and intended on playing, regardless of who else was or was not in attendance. And here we ran into roadblock No. 1. There was only one table - which was already occupied by the aforementioned duo.

We milled around for a few minutes, thinking perhaps we were early and the festivities hadn't really taken off yet. But impatience took over and I asked the bartender if there was another table she could bring out. There was. She did.

Now for roadblock No. 2.

It sometimes seems like red Solo cups are in never-ending supply. After how many college parties, how many shotgun weddings, how many family reunions, I can't ever recall a time when we ran out of Solo cups. How could you - they're like 99 cents for 2,000.

But as the bartender hauled out the second table (thanks kind lady) she likewise informed us that the Solo cup stash had run dry (um, what?).

Beer pong without Solo cups? Es imposible! After some mild hemming and hawing on our part, someone jetted off to buy some cups.

I should note that - despite being called 'beer pong' (or Beirut, if you prefer) - no beer was used in the making of this event. The cups are actually filled with water (yes, yes, blasphemy) but $1.50 Budweiser and PBR drafts should keep cheap beer drinkers happy.

There was zero organization regarding the game - to the chagrin of the more serious players among us who insisted on maintaining the highest level of formality.

Eventually some scrap paper was scrounged up to use as a sign-up sheet and the "we'll play winners" started flying.

Any talent for the game that I once possessed back at EIU was long, long gone. I scored one cup the first game - one. But maybe my grandmother was right, and beer pong IS just like riding a bike: it's a skill you'll always retain. Game two I was back in the swing of things (as in, didn't win but could at least compete).

Aside from the table and cup glitches and the slow start to the night, we all agreed it was a good time. The event would be greatly improved if a) there were enough cups for four tables. b) There were four tables c) Someone at the bar took charge and organized teams/brackets. The competition factor could really entice the regulars.

Pub Quiz at Ri-Ra

Tuesdays have been historically...blah. The agony of the work week is in full force and that trusty savior Hump Day is still hours and hours away. Happy hour might be a good way to break up the monotony but it just seems wrong on a Tuesday (so some people say).

If only there were some nighttime occupation you could participate in that would both stimulate your noggin and enable you to unashamedly support your local watering hole on a Tuesday.

Trivia junkies around Portland have already discovered Tuesday night pub trivia at Ri-Ra. That became obvious at about 7:50 p.m. last Tuesday when the half-empty bar suddenly flooded with people.

I had arrived early with a few friends and managed to stake out some stools and a bit of counter top - which turned out to be very lucky when space soon thereafter became a commodity.

The chitchat in the room was heavy while a bartender hoisted the pub quiz boards onto the wall in preparation. I grabbed a quiz notepad and pencils (two, just in case) and my cohorts and I brainstormed a team name: Squeaky Silent Ks.

It's pub trivia, I thought. How hard can it be? I'm an avid reader. I watch Discovery Channel (when I have access to a cable TV) and MPBN (when I don't). My recall of useless information is, in my humble opinion, up there with the best of them. Yeah, I was confident we'd do OK.

Soon after 8:00 p.m., the first 10-question round began. The aforementioned bartender read the first question aloud. I'm wishing now that I had written it down so I could include it here. Let it suffice to say that, at the time, the question sounded something like this: "Name the triplolectic of the flubberstaff who was the first grabnagit to slipnit."

Uh... [insert sound of confidence being crushed here]

We had a team of five - all literate, educated folks - and we could do nothing but stare questionioningly at each other. "Do you know it?" "No, do you?" "I have no idea." "Wait. What was the question again?"

Nine more questions came - most we wrote down answers for, most of those we knew were wrong.

At the end of the round we brought our answer sheet up to be checked (and laughed at) and tallied up by the pub quiz operators.

Team names were written on the board with first-round scores. We looked on with baited breath. Please, please, please don't let us be profoundly dumber than all the other teams.

And there was our team name - next to one of the lowest scores on the board: 3 out of 10 points. Yikes. On a brighter note, there was one team that scored even lower. Three cheers for not being the absolute worst.

Round two went a little better. Shockingly the round we really scored with was the picture round, during which we needed to identify 10 car logos. My gear head brother would have been proud: 9 out 10.

If teams were tied for points at the end of a round, a tie-breaker question was read.

Lucky for us, we never had to deal with that pressure.

And despite being trivia deficient, the lively atmosphere kept spirits up. A friendly team nearby even took pity and helped us with a couple of answers. So we weren't trivia champs. Big deal. Word on the street is, "that Celtics team always wins" anyway.

Way to go Celtics. For the rest of us, it's still a great excuse to have a drink, enjoy good company and do something a little different on a Tuesday.