After work, I went out with MJ because she heard about a Friday Night Fiver --- a movie was being shown in Powerscourt for five euro. It was a British cult classic made in the eighties: Withnail and I. Although I had never heard of it, other people were quoting the movie as the lines were being said. The film supposedly had overall meaning about growing up and was a commentary on society; however, I mostly saw it as Cheech and Chong, but with British accents.
Although my opinion of the movie is a big question mark, I really enjoyed being at the venue. Powerscourt is an upscale shopping area, but in the center is a huge atrium. In the summers, the roof opens so you are outside but still within the building. The film was shown on a huge screen on the side of a wall, and everyone sat cozily in the center admist the goings-ons of the surrounding bar areas. Pygmalian pub definitely had a hipster vibe to it with dim lights to highlight the Christmas lights strung about. The art on the walls was nouveau and chic as were the futuristic looking furniture.
It took MJ and I a good five minutes to figure out how to work the sink in the bathroom. It was a circular metal tub in the middle of the room. We kept trying to press buttons and wave our hands around under nozzles until someone took pity on us and actually had to explain. There were black buttons on the floor which I had thought were decorations, but were actually the faucets. When you stepped on them, the water came out. Go figure.
The next night, I went out with MJ again and we went over to Smithfield. This area is up and coming. It had been a section of the meaner part of town, but it was recently redeveloped. You still need to be careful getting there, but the area itself is mostly composed of young professionals. Because it is on the north side of town and far removed from the Temple Bar area, most of the people there are locals---tourists don't really know about it.
We went to a fundraiser for Upstart, a group of artists who creates artwork for the city and holds events. Podraig asked why we were giving money to people who were already taking our money on the dole (artists are not really known for their 9-5 jobs), but it was a cool fundraiser nonetheless.
The event was called Slam Poetry and American Wrestling. How do these two go together, you ask? I still don't know, but it was very unique, I'll give them that. The door to get in wasn't labeled at all (I'm glad that MJ knew where she was going). You enter into a long corridor with cement floors, bare brick walls, and just a table with ticket-takers to greet you. I can hear cheering and screaming coming from the end of the hallway. The place looks like an abandoned warehouse - a building that was begun but the construction never completed.
The yelling is getting louder as we make our way towards another entrance. As you step inside, you are greeted by hundreds of young rowdy people surrounding a wrestling ring like you would see in WWF. The crowd was all drinking beer out of cans, bottles, tea cups...just about anything really. This meant that the cheers only continued to get louder as the night wore on.
In the center ring, guys in costumes with very tiny shorts were throwing each other around in a mock fight and the crowd was egging them on as music blasted out of mega speakers. Unfortunately, very few of the amateur wrestlers actually had any real muscle (for the record, spandex does not look good with a pot belly), but they all played their parts with a lot of passion and character.
Just like in actual WWF, they even had feeble storylines holding the fight together---my favorite was when a "villian" called Lord stormed out of the back room as Mozart theme music played through the speakers. He was dressed in a red-coat officer uniform (with spandex), had "Lord" painted across his butt, and spoke with a horribly fake British accent. The "hero" was a Dubliner Every Man dressed in a green unitard. The two proceeded to wrestle and one of them even brought out a chair to smash as the audience cheered and jeered.
I included the picture because I wasn't sure if you would believe me without one!Now, I know what you're thinking - I thought the night was called "Slam Poetry and American Wrestling" so where is the poetry? Well, in between bouts, poets would get into the ring and say a few pieces. Their poems were all original modern works about life in Ireland. These guys were actually award winning poets and the crowd cheered just as loud for them as they did for the wrestlers. The poets were as popular as celebrities---the crowd would often join in during a few of the lines because they knew all of the words. When poetry is performed live, the words take on a life of their own. The added exuberance of the audience carried the message even better.
Again, I'm not sure how poetry and wrestling go together (except for the "slam" part), but the fundraiser somehow made it work. After the event ended, we all went out to another pub. Unfortunately, the Dice Bar was so crowded that I could literally barely move. Everyone was pressed against each other in a massive wave of people. We quickly relocated to the Cobblestone which had a lovely outdoor area--the area was actually supposed to be an apartment complex but was abandoned only after the walls were erected due to lack of funds. Instead of leaving it derelict, the pub turned it into a make-shift courtyard area. This zone was allocated for smokers, but there weren't too many there, so we remained relatively cloud free. We were able to sit out under the stars and chat until 3:30am.
What a weekend it was!
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