Adventures of the Third Lost Expedition, Part XIX: The highest holiday

March 21, 1986

The Third Lost Expedition, Part XIX:

The highest holiday.

CAPTAIN’S LOG, BAR DATE XLI: Not often has the Third Lost Expedition’s itinerary promised to be as scenic as it would on this installment of their quest to quaff a drink in every licensed establishment on fabled federal Route 62 from Niagara Falls to El Paso, Texas. Or as close to El Paso as they could get.

        This time their coordinates were set for the southernmost part of South Buffalo, programmed to pass through that predominantly Irish preserve at the very start of its highest holiday, St. Patrick’s Day weekend. What’s more, they would swing past a pair of magnificent memorials from the area’s golden age – the glass-domed South Park Botanical Gardens and the immense Italianate basilica erected by Father Baker in the heart of nearby Lackawanna.

        The Captain had no trouble touting the glories of the mission to the crew, but finding proper provisions for them was another story. Determined to avoid repeating the foodless follies of the last outing, he scouted the route relentlessly, only to emerge without a clue as to which taproom would have something to eat. There was nary a Friday fish fry to be found.

        Faced with the prospect of designating a Burger King as the evening’s staging area, the Captain turned to a native of this galaxy, the Poignant Flashback. After a few milliseconds of memory search, she had the answer – the Wayside Family Restaurant, 2301 South Park Ave. It didn’t serve liquor, but it cooked 24 hours a day and, as the Flashback pointed out, it’s about as characteristically South Buffalonian as you’ll get.

        As promised, the Wayside was brightly-lit and basic, all fluorescent lights and Formica. It was also inexpensive. Few items on the menu required more than a $5 bill. The only anomaly was that it wasn’t Irish at all. It was Greek. A photo of the Venus de Milo gazed down on the crew as they pushed all the unbolted-down tables into a communal barrier which nearly blocked off the rest rooms.

        In the end, there were more trekkers than places to put them at the table – a grand total of 21 in all – and they inundated the first tavern they transported to, the Poplar Inn at 2146 South Park. They jammed the narrow, dimly-lit bar area, with its old-fashioned tin ceiling and dark veneer paneling, overwhelming a handful of regulars quietly watching network TV.

        The 50-cent drafts of Busch, Schmidt’s and Genesee beer and ale that the barmaid poured had a funky flavor, so most opted for $1 cocktails or bottles of Molson’s Golden for $1.35, then repaired to the side room for video games and billiards, although a couple of young, checkered-shirted habitués of the place felt obliged to recapture the pool table by invoking house rules. “You want slop or no slop?” they demanded.

        Lest the hospitality run any thinner, the safari slipped across the street and a few doors north to the Avenue Pub at 2113 South Park, where Official St. Patrick’s Party Headquarters posters from Guinness Brewery decorated the front door. Indeed, there was St. Pat’s paraphernalia all over the place.

        Behind the bar was a burly fellow in a bright green Avenue Pub sweater which identified him as Larry and a right efficient host he was, snappily serving up drafts of Genny Ale, which were 40 cents a glass until 10 p.m. Popular bottled brands were a mere 90 cents at this hour. For the festive weekend, there was Guinness Stout at a most reasonable $1.50 a bottle. And for every woman in the place, there were roses.

        The Avenue Pub, aside from being a party headquarters, also was a rallying place for the sports-minded. “This place has more trophies than the YMCA,” the Quartermaster remarked. A sign announced a benefit beer blast March 22 for the bar’s fast-pitch softball team. Posted prominently on the wall by the pool table and the foosball table were the South Buffalo Billiard Association standings.

        While most of the party took over the video games, the Captain inquired of Larry whether bar had a set of darts to borrow. Larry produced two sets and obligingly switched on the light over the dart board, which was set up precariously close to the entrance for the ladies’ room.

        So amenable was the Avenue Pub that the trekkers lingered for quite some time. Ultimately, however, they ventured into the thickening fog and plunged southward to Recckio’s Lanes, a bowling emporium at 2426 South Park, settling their shuttlecraft down in front of Mangano’s Bakery, a major doughnut manufacturer across the street which, fortunately, was closed.

        Recckio’s, being Italian, had little in the way of St. Pat’s decorations, but it did offer pizza. It also was the first place in many a light year to realize that the sipping safari was headed their way. Posted next to the bowling machine was a sign welcoming the expeditioners.

        At this hour, some of the 18 lanes were vacant, so a number of the trekkers decided to try their luck at real bowling. The best they could register was a 135.

        From there, it was to be a scenic cruise over the city line into Lackawanna, but the heavy fog obscured all but the front door of the Botanical Gardens and the most earthbound of the angels on Father Baker’s basilica. They almost missed the next stop, as well. Bokan’s at 2847 South Park had changed the sign out front to read Club Le Bok at Bokan’s.

        Club Le Bok was definitely in a transitional stage. Windows in the rear were freshly covered with insulation, but not yet walled in. Although there was still the same tight three-sided bar and the same series of tiny anterooms, one of them was now given over to a pair of dart boards and some serious competition.

        Some of the crew grabbed 40-cent Genesee drafts and lingered at the bar. The rest retreated to the back room, where they found still another Trivia video game and an empty popcorn machine. A brief conference settled the matter of whether to press onward. By this point, it was decided, the expeditioners were getting a little foggy themselves.