TGI Friday’s: Yes, I’m serious. Specifically the location off Pennsylvania Ave. at 21st and Eye. It’s a microcosm of D.C. – You have GWU undergrads showing up in giddy packs at all hours, desperately hoping to get away with ordering daiquiris, hardened locals who seem to be regulars or at the very least unemployed friends of the uber-casual, yet competent minority dominated serving staff, and tourists trying to summon up the liquid courage they need before heading over to
Camelot, one of D.C.’s finer establishments for adult entertainment. Back in my nomadic days, when I called D.C. home and yet didn't have one here, I spent an entire afternoon at their bar after locking myself out of a fellow contributor’s adjacent apartment and found that I couldn’t help but hum Stevie Wonder & Paul McCartney’s delightfully tacky "Ebony and Ivory." I’ll explore this topic in future entries, but generally, there's an incredible amount of racial tension in D.C. and any environment that manages to put this aside for a few hours, no matter how mundane, deserves credit.
Perhaps more than anything else, even a hardened “foodie” will timidly admit that sometimes, you just get a hankering’ for that greasy, deep-fried, suburban corporate fare that is served to you in ginormous portions by somebody wearing a fake smile and excessive amounts of “flare.” Those tall domestics are also pretty clutch in a City where increasing hipness too often means getting a lot less for a lot more.
Washington Harbour: No rundown of D.C. bars would be complete without taking a cheap shot at the twin establishments found on the banks of the Potomac in Georgetown.
But I’m not going to do that. Rather, I’m going to accept them for what they are, remind people that despite what they may have heard, beers here are the standard $5, and that you are, in fact, paying for the scenery and ambiance. Why do people always talk about that like it’s a bad thing? I’d rather sit on the water, checking out cute joggers and their chocolate labs while waiting for the sun to dip down over the Rosslyn skyline and the lights to come on up river at the Watergate and Kennedy Center than be stuck in some dingy basement a la
The Bottom Line. Escape from the humidity and enjoy the sights, sounds, and libations on a summer evening, and then head up Wisconsin for dinner at someplace with a little more local flare.
Irish Times: Certainly a sentimental favorite. Not only is it a CUA bar, not only does it host WAKA post-game flip-cup tournaments, not only do I suddenly have an in with one of their bartenders and his always entertaining girlfriend, and not only is former American Idol contestant/token slut Antonella Barbarella often partaking here, but they have one of the best weekend night atmospheres in the town. You can enjoy $2 Miller products (which can be purchased all around the room, not just at the bar) while taking in the musical stylings of
Papa George. He’s everything you would want out of a bar’s melodic entertainment - A seemingly endless acoustic repertoire that offers both classic rock staples and funny, albeit skillful interpretations of modern Top 40 songs.
This place was so clutch when I was living on campus, as Union Station and its Red Line Metrorail stop is literally right across the street. My favorite night out of a (still young) 2008 culminated here, in a lush image that, as someone who pretends to be from Nashville might say, “painted a picture of my life and my dreams.” And as the countdown to WAKA Opening Day begins in earnest, I’m sure more great memories will be made here sooner rather than later. Melodrama aside, this one’s a keeper in the
Birreria Paradiso and
Big Hunt vein.
Hawk n’ Dove: A veritable D.C. institution; many claim this Capitol Hill tavern is the oldest in the District. Usually found on any cursory, Maxim/GQ/Esquire list of the best watering holes in America, this is THE place to follow “political football” – Congressional staffers, interns, and PolySci majors can be found convening here on any given weekday night during and election year; reacting to cable news the way one would react to an NFL game. Instead of busted traffic lights, old license plates, and taxidermists' handiwork on the walls, the chachki here is comprised of replicas of famous Presidential addresses and portraits.
Additionally, it's an unequivocal Green Bay Packers bar; the only one in the Diamond. Although I was limited to only two full games up there this season, it was almost surreal for this Jersey Boy to finally be caught up in fight songs and chants straight out of Wisconsin. Although the shots of Sambuca after every TD seemed like an odd choice and the bandwagoners got to be too much as the miracle season wore on, I’m grateful for this place’s very existence.
Its very location in the heart of the attractive Capitol Hill neighborhood also scores the place big points. Eastern Market, D.C.’s homage to Seattle’s famous Pike Place Market, is just down the road, solidly recovering from that 2006 fire. And the scores of coffee shops, used record stores, and bistros lend this area a perpetual Sunday morning feel. Sure enough, Sundays up on the Hill are something special – After chasing away Saturday night’s lingering effects with a few mimosas + greasy omelet, a copy of the Post, and a few “apology texts,” you'll be able to start the whole process over again after Aaron Rodgers can’t make it past the second series and your fantasy season goes up in smoke. The whole area is basically an entry out of
'Stuff White People Like'. And as the Class of 2000 begins to contemplate 30, that's really not such a bad thing...
On top of everything else, there’s always that great feeling when your drunken eyes spy the looming, glowing Capitol Rotunda, Supreme Court, Library of Congress, etc. for the first time in hours. Nothing makes you appreciate living in D.C. more than a few rounds at this old stalwart.
Buffalo Billiards: If the Hawk n’Dove has a subtle way of reminding you that you're privileged to live in the capital of the free world, this place reminds you that D.C. is still, at its historic heart, a decidedly Southern city. It has an iffy reputation among Tri-State transplants for their dirty tap lines and the kind of clientele it draws - Look no further than the fact that ‘Buck Hunter’ is one of the establishment’s most popular arcade games. This is the kind of place where bridge and tunnelers (Yes, they have them in D.C. too) can go and not worry about sticking out like a sore thumb. A lot of that has to do with the sprawling nature of the place, but most of it stems from the fact that there are so many diversions. Be it the satellite TVs during football season, the shuffleboard (PS - I dominate), darts, and yes, a seemingly infinite number of billiards tables, there’s always something else to do here. The bar menu is woefully concise and greasy and the beer list sub-standard at best – I rarely see anyone order anything except Miller Lites and Blue Moons here.
Even if you wouldn't dream of actually buying them a round, when suburban girls are trying too hard, it usually means they're scantily clad. And that certainly makes this "necessary evil of a bar" a bit more tolerable.
It’s located right across the street from the Dupont Circle Metro and near plenty of other decent places, so I’m not sure why I find myself ending a lot of nights there as opposed to kicking off things.
Capitol City Brewing Company:
For some reason, I’m always a bit surprised when I realize how receptive even Washingtonian elites are to this regional brewery/chain; it’s always packed to the gills at both locations come happy hour. It makes sense, though… The food has a reputation for its tastiness, diversity, and the bang you get for your buck, and the service is nothing short of personal and superb. Besides the appetizers, the real draw is, unsurprisingly, their original beers. The Prohibition Porter gets enough (well-deserved) credit, but I assume their Capitol Kolsch is what American macro breweries would churn out if making money/swill for those who give beer a less-than-classy reputation wasn’t an object.
Fado: It can be outrageously expensive and outrageously crowded. ALL THE TIME. I would chalk it up to the constant soccer matches playing on their paltry collection of TVs, but aside from a few transplanted Europeans in way-too-tight jerseys, nobody ever really seems to be paying attention to them. It also can’t be the repetitive Irish music, be it live or piped in, that everybody seems to ignore. It probably isn’t Monday night Quizzo either. The architecture is gimmicky and obtrusive more than anything else, the bathrooms too small, the bartenders too interested in chatting amongst themselves, even as the Verizon Center lets out and you can’t even breathe, let alone fight your way to the bar, and on top of everything else, it was recently revealed to be a chain. I didn’t even know chain bars existed outside of those sports bar/arcade joints. Call me a snob, but that tidbit just makes this place even more obnoxious than it already is.
On the plus side, I’ve always enjoyed this place MUCH more in the wee hours, and if you manage to get a table, it’s considerably more tolerable (albeit still too expensive). And its proximity to the Arena usually translates into not only easy access back to Eye Street, but "enthralling" 2am D List celebrity sightings. Jim Gaffigan, ladies and gentleman!
Brickskeller: 
I wish it was as easy as “Dude. Thousands of bottled beers from thousands of different places. ‘Nuff said.” But sadly and predictably, it isn’t.
Unbelievably, it’s more of a restaurant than a bar, and that usually translates into lengthy waits to get in the door. Also, their collection is so vast, the servers usually are clueless as to what they actually have in stock on any given night. Nevertheless, it’s decidedly awesome to read
Eric Asimov fawn over some craft brew from Oregon one minute and actually be able to taste it after nothing more than a quick jaunt up New Hampshire Ave.
Well, that’s it for now. Hopefully the warm months just around the corner will translate into me frequenting some of the more intriguing bars I’ve only been to once or twice and just an expansion of our drinking horizons in general – Scotch tastings capped by a visit to
Ben's Chili Bowl
on the U Street Corridor, more Adams Morgan, more bowling + wings + "white trash mimosas (Miller Lite + Orange Tang) on the GWU Campus, and maybe even throwing a few back in the shadow of the National Shrine in my home away from Eye Street - Brookland. I've been told Washingtonians are quite legendary for their drinking, so there’s a good chance part three will be along quite soon. When in Rome, right?
