Dahlia’s First Anniversary and Best in the Nest Ring in Holiday Season

Introverts have a knack for agreeing to social plans while in a fleetingly social mood, only to later find that these so-called “surprise” plans, which lack any element of actual surprise, must be followed through on. Hello, it’s me, the introvert, undergoing my own self-inflicted torture.

This past Saturday, while braving errands through a cold, I began mapping out my cozy night indoors when I felt an unshakable nudge to check my calendar. To my horror, not only was I expected to be “outside” for one event, but I had somehow agreed to two! A muttered string of MF-level expletives escaped as I realized I’d also be flying solo dolo.

While moping on the couch, I began the frantic shuffle of excuse-building that resembled the morning chats I would have with myself before ultimately going into the office post-COVID. Visions of texting my editor and friends crossed my mind, but the guilt of disappointment tugged harder.

Donning a mix of Miley Cyrus’ raspy voice, mild indignation, and an oversized sweater with knee-high boots, I rallied, mentally recalculating how much small talk my reserves (and my strained vocal cords) could withstand. What’s a little self-sacrifice for the illusion of a thriving social life, right?

The first stop: QC Nerve’s Best in the Nest celebration and sixth-anniversary party at The Barrel Room at Triple C Brewing Company.

When the GOAT of print publications that reigned supreme in the Queen City was abruptly shut down in October 2018 by a publishing entity of Voldemort-like infamy, I felt a blend of rage for the displaced staff and heartbreak for the city’s cultural loss. The void left by this closure was profound, stripping the community of a trusted source for local news, arts, and commentary.

However, in true Phoenix-like fashion, former staff members rose from the ashes stronger than ever to create QC Nerve, a publication that not only filled the gaping hole left behind but became the new pulse of the city. In other words, the busiest, Chaddiest nook of the city nor a cold was stopping me.

The Barrel Room, located across from its big sis, Triple C, is a hotspot for events in South End, including Fever’s Candlelight concert series. The weight of socializing kept me barely above gravel as I exited my Uber in 3-inch stiletto heels, but dissipated as I checked in with the doorman: a man in a purple suit and clown makeup who was handing out wristbands and stickers with his own face on them.

“We’re all mad here, Alice,” I thought as I entered with a “rotten fresh” POV on the night.

To my genuine surprise, I was welcomed by the wonderfully weird and oddly familiar vibes of Concord’s own MoonLander. “Oh okay, Jack Harlow and Post Malone made a baby just for me?!” I thought as gravity pulled me out of my orbit at the only empty counter-height table strewn with cups from guests who’d arrived on time to bounce to the beat on ankles already expired.

His infectious blend of rap, pop, “rizz” and undeniably genuine storytelling has a way of connecting with a room, whether you’re a cult follower or someone “just happy to be here.” It was the perfect pregame, giving me just the boost I needed for my second stop: Dahlia’s first anniversary party.

On the third floor of the five-story Binaco Tower, you’ll find the building’s newest addition, Dahlia’s, the fourth personality in an eclectic lineup, seamlessly tucked between familiar favorites like Novelty House rooftop bar, Havana Smoke and Reserve cigar lounge, and Saku sushi and yakitori bar.

Like its counterparts, Dahlia’s delivers a classy aesthetic with seasonal Instagram-worthy décor, moody lighting, and just the right amount of seating for a relaxed atmosphere on quieter nights.

Beyond its curated cocktail menu, Dahlia’s elevates the experience with late-night small plates — empanadas, tacos and flatbreads — that fit perfectly within the dynamic of the five-floor lineup, making it easy to want to explore the whole building all night long.

I let out an anxious sigh as I stepped off the elevator, the door guy nodding toward the coat check. It hit me: There wasn’t going to be enough room for my floor-length down jacket, aka my winter emotional support coat.

I immediately regretted letting task paralysis delay my intended early arrival. But the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and the glow of the illuminated bar began to soothe my nerves as I took in the space. A cold Stella Artois kept me grounded, reminding me to smile and nod when a clearly intoxicated woman slurred, “You look just like Rihanna.”

Her friends awkwardly stared, hoping I’d take it as a compliment. The beer reminded me to play it cool when such well-meaning strangers, misreading my solo status as loneliness, approached with small talk.

But most importantly, it gave me the liquid courage to track down familiar faces for a quick hello before retreating to the warmth of my jacket and the comfort of my favorite “living room” watering hole.

I can’t say it was the night I’d planned — after all, I’d planned to become one with my couch — but it was one that reminded me that sometimes, showing up for people in a city you’ve grown to love can be just the medicine you need, especially in small doses.

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