Monday, May 3, 2010

the day that h street died

Since I hate keeping big news a secret (because I'm sure every minute thing that happens to me is noteworthy to your own lives), I don't. Which is why I immediately Twittered the Web (ew) last week when I procured my new two-wheeled whip. I'm sure your lives changed forever when I dropped this Earth-shattering news. So, without further ado, meet Champagne, my brand new-to-me, gold-hued French velo:

Oh crap. I apologize, but as you can imagine, this golden, French High Life of Bikes doesn't take a photo unsexy enough for the work place. I mean for Armstrong's sake, her name's Champagne. She's clearly made for bike porn.

Yet despite my excitement at having this genuine piece of the early '80s rubbing on my rear everyday, I still have my old whip, Junior, on my mind. I will never stop looking for him. Nor will I ever forget.

Which brings me the opposite of that -- to something I pray I will forget. And hopefully pretty goddamn soon: Little Miss Whiskey's. What the f*ck happened to H Street in the last six months? I'm hoping I was just there on a horribly Ninth-Circle-of-Hellish night, but I'm not so sure that's the case. The crowd at the aforementioned establishment on Friday rivaled the annoyingness of any crowd in Georgetown on any given day (or night).

For instance, STOP STANDING STILL ON THE DANCE FLOOR, DOUCHE! Not that the music was good, but it was danceable, which means there was no excuse for the people on the dance floor to just stand there, holding on to their Blackberrys in one hand and adjusting their balls in the other because the pleats on their madras were rubbing the wrong way; that is, they were rubbing the opposite of how a bicycle named Champagne rubs one's junk.

And, more importantly, STOP BEING SO UPTIGHT AND BORING! You're not attractive enough just to look at (we're in DC, after all), so you better at least be interesting. And no, you sitting on a chair and staring at me blank-faced, as I relay a hilarious tale about my homophobic cabbie, his self-disclosed enlarged prostate and his repetition of the exclamation, "SH*T ASS!" on my ride over here is not interesting.

Seriously, I suppose we all knew it was only a matter of time before H Street became the new Georgetown, but this seems far too soon. U Street hasn't even fully morphed into the new Adams Morgan yet. And Adams Morgan, although on the fast track to hell, still has at least a year before its collar is fully popped.

So, what the hell is happening around here? Where the f*ck are we supposed to go now? They've almost reached the end of the Douche Line!

Or maybe, just maybe, or perhaps, just perhaps, or, maybe, just maybe and perhaps or, perhaps, just perhaps and maybe, the line is an illusion! Maybe and perhaps, this line is a circle! And perhaps and maybe we're all on it, meaning it's time we complete it and start going out in Georgetown!

Jorts will not optional.

But, alas, this is both dangerous and a shame. Regarding the former, the chances of going out right now in Georgetown and seeing a Juicy Couture terry-cloth, baby-doll dress are still so very regretfully high. And regarding the latter, this is a shame because Little Miss Whiskey's has one of the best bar layouts in town, including one helluva back deck for outdoor imbibing. And I'll be damned if I can't enjoy a moonllt late night shot without feeling like I'm gonna get mooned by Late Night Shots. This is totally unacceptable.

So unacceptable, in fact, that I need to change the subject altogether or I'm afraid my tipple point will progress into a tipping point and we'll initiate the end of days. And while I can handle a bit of blood on my hands, I sure as hell can't handle any Tory Burch logos near my person.

I'm going for a bike ride...


Ben (The Tiger in Exile) said...

There's the Anti-DC we know and love.

FoggyDew said...

See, I think I see your problem here, three of the areas you've mentioned in this post are filled to overflowing with their own flavor of douche. Therefore it was inevitable that H Street would catch the bug. Thankfully none of these low-level staffer/first-year associate G-town/Adams Morgan/U/H Street wannabe professionals make enough money to drink in the good places.

A solution to the non-dancing problem is the wild swing of an arm and the precise application of a stiletto, that'll stop their berry gazing on the dance floor.

Anonymous said...

This is why I first starting reading way back when. Great post!

I began worry about this very issue when the H Street Country Club opened last June. Within a mere week or so, it had already lured the GTown douches with the promise of country club atmosphere (read: casual racism, exclusion, and general douchbaggery).

The more I was on H Street, the more convinced I became that the area somehow jumped from "kinda sketchy place you wouldn't necessarily feel safe to go to" to "really douchy place you definitely don't want to go for fear of douchery" without the "place that is totally fun to go to" stage that (I hear) AdMo had and that U Street/14th Street had. You're totally right about U Street not being totally destroyed but the douches already starting to infest H Street.

While I am glad to see the Anti-DCness I have missed, it's sad to have my fears confirmed, especially since Little Miss Whiskey's is such a great bar!

At least there's still XXX XXXXX and XXXXX XXXXX, I also hear XXXXX XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXX XXXX is great but I have not been.

-Anonymous Brian

p.s. I am afraid the Late Night Shots crew have google alerts and might try to find places mentioned above suitable for douchifying. You can never be too careful.

Daniel said...

This is why I can only drink at sign of the whale (and even then only immediately after work, before too many people come out)-- of wait, they re-branded as a fucking tool-bar too. Although I must say, if you're into cocktails, you should sneak into the bar at PS7's; It's usually pretty quiet compared to all the other nearby joints, and their "Recession Blues - The Cure" cocktail made from Miller High Life ($5) is quite refreshing. It's kind of a fancy place if you're actually going to the restaurant, but I like to bum around the bar and eat the bottomless free popcorn.

Alex said...

Basically there is nowhere in this city you can go on a weekend night where douchebaggery isn't an issue. That's why weekends are for Netflix.

Freewheel said...

Your opening bit was truly brilliant bike geek humor.

Another David said...

NOOOO!!! I was just there a couple weeks ago, and it was awesome! This is making me sad. I'll have to see it for myself.

Found you through DCBlogs :)

Jamie said...

Interesting final theory. I do recommend that you go out in Georgetown. It's guaranteed to be a win either way.

If it got cool again (since nobody knows anyone who's been there in 20 years) then it would be worth having sent an emissary to relay that information.

But I'm not holding my breath. The other possible outcome is that Georgetown has achieved such an incredible level of douchery that it will make you realize how good things actually are on H Street by comparison.

Either way worth the trip. If you don't make it back for some reason, we'll assume the worst and post "warning, contaminated area" signs at 25th and M.

Boomhauer said...

The only place left where there are no honkey-rific blackberry checking douches is the 14th Street Spanish Adams Morgan. Instead of Madras, you get checkered vaquero shirts, Central American midgets, and muffin toppage by the chicas that is unrivaled anywhere else in the city. If you can stand having the occasional machete brandished at you by a barely literate carpet layer with eight gold teeth, it'll be like you're in your favorite Central American Cantina del Dive.

Fist said...

Even the raven can be a hodgepodge of borderline douchery on the weekends. This cannot be avoided.

Andy said...

Douche is an attitude, not a style. Yes the lumps need to get off the dance floor. Nobody has to laugh at your anecdote.

I don't know who Tory Burch is, but your inability to abide seems... shallow? Throw a house party or something, lest someone's "fashion" offends you.

Marissa said...


I'm glad I redeemed myself.


True. There are many forms of douches, which is why I tried to choose an obnoxious photo to represent each scene in my diagrams. However, there is a particular breed of DC douche that is bred solely in places like Georgetown. Now, I don't know if that means the herd is moving east at an ever-increasing rate, or if they are just multiplying...

anonymous brian--

I think the H Street Country Club might've done it. I've never been, but all my trusted sources say it sucks. A lot. However, while bars might be on death watch, there will always be The Room...


Thanks for the tip! If I ever decide to drink in public again in this city, I may have to check it out!


I don't have Netflix, so I'm just getting really good at chess. No, really.


Thank you. I pride myself on my geekdom, bike or otherwise.

another david--

Yes. H Street Death Watch has officially begun. I look forward to your reports.


You know, I'll give Georgetown a shot. I'm hoping maybe there's a hidden dive somewhere. Or, yeah, like you said, it will just make the H Street Death Watch seem not so bad, after all. Worst case, I continue to drink in dark recesses of my house alone. Nothin' wrong with that!


While honkey-douches might be the worst, DC sure does not discriminate when it comes to being a tool.


So, maybe the key is to retreat to a bunker on weekends... Not a bad plan...


I agree that douche is an attitude. Yet so often, that attitude is worn on a douche's person. Tory Burch is the Juicy Couture for the 30-plus set. Pretty offensive and overpriced. People don't buy it because it looks good, they buy it because her logo is plastered all over it. That's a visual douche signal.

And yes, nobody has to laugh at my anecdotes, but then those are also people who I don't want to hang around. Either they don't get it or they're too uptight for my brand of humor. I think that's an excellent way to judge people that has nothing to do with their so-called fashion. Get me out of there.

The only way that could ever be OK is if I was talking to a deaf person, in which case I would write it down and reassess.

Anonymous said...

If douches invade The Room, western civilization has truly come to an end and the terrorists have won

-anonymous brian

Patty Duke said...

There are still too many blacks on and around H St to worry about the Georgetown tools spreading to H St.
They will come to say that the have been there, but they won't stay. (Racial?)