I recently attended the County symposium on the causes of the warm winter we just experienced. It was held at the Pottsville Planetarium and the science community was there in full force, setting forth plausible explanations.
Obviously some believed it was due to the groundhog prediction, others believed it was caused by the elderly population going overboard on Hoody Hoo Day and pushed for a ordinance banning the practice of Hoody Hooism, and still others believed the temperature increased solely due to the proliferation of Zumba lessons throughout the area. The end result was absolutely no consensus and a fight soon erupted over which irish democrat the Planetarium should be named after .
Afterwards a group of us headed over to the newest entertainment establishment in the county. You know, the one devoted to Jimmy Buffet. It is located in North Manheim Township along Route 61 not far from the legendary Spa 61. It’s called the Buffet House and should be a major destination for Hawaiian-shirt-wearing aging yuppies on their way to or from Cabela’s. In fact there is plenty of parking for their Escalades and BMWs.
When we arrived I noticed the large grand opening sign in the front. I felt welcomed and at ease until one member of our group started to complain as he thought the place was devoted to Warren Buffet. I told him “No way, Jose” and we headed towards the entrance.
I think the owners of the place were expecting large crowds of Jimmy Buffet devotees (who are referred to as Juggalos) as a metal fence encircled the premises to keep the crowds at bay.
Before we entered I went into a trance-like flashback, remembering my visits to this location many, many years ago. This was the place that I first laid eyes on Mammy; she was doing the Hustle, all dressed up in her silver polyester outfit. That was the 70s. The rest is history. The dancehall was known to all then as “the Dusselfink” during those Mad Men years, when Willard and Cook ruled the County and everyone drank hi-balls, ate pop rocks, and smoked cigarettes openly and in your face. And of course everyone danced. Some called it a Wonderland while others called it a Pennsylvania Dutch Studio 54. We just called it ‘Das Fink’ where Lounge Music reigned supreme.
When I snapped out of my trance, we were already inside the Buffet House. It was quite rustic, but it had to be, as it was to convey the let’s pretend we are Castaways feelings that Jimmy Buffet exudes. We had no problem getting a seat as we were the only ones there. After about ten minutes I looked around. Not only were there no other patrons, there were no hosts or hostesses. I had my mind set on ordering the special that was advertised on the sign. Then I remembered it was a Monday and many restaurants were closed on Mondays, so we got up and left.
Someone in the SUV said it reminded him of a burned-out restaurant, like the old Manheim Diner, a pile of charred rubble that sat for years just a mile south of the Jimmy Buffet House. While he missed that old pile of charred pile of rubble, this new one was even better. It will be the new focal point of North Manheim Township. The Township was always proud to show off a burned out restaurant to passerbys.
We were still hungry and we wanted cheeseburgers in paradise, so we headed north to Margarita...I mean...Pottsville and stopped in at the Eagles Club. I switched shirts before we entered as the Hawaiian shirt I had on was inappropriate attire at the Eagles which has a very strict dress code. We would go the Buffet House another day. It will be there for years to come.
