Holiday Crawl
Last night was such an amazing blur. For starters, it was Mojito Monday at the Broadway Grill (AKA Gay Denny’s) on Broadway. $4 Mojitos are nice, but even cheap Mojitos should be better than the ones we were served. They were a little weak and limey for my tastes. And besides, after the amazing, crisp and balanced ones we had at Havana (which, with that name, you would expect them to know their way around a Mojito) during Pride weekend, it’s hard to settle for an inferior mix.
But that was just the beginning. Since the Holiday comes mid-week, our Monday was essentially Monday and Friday all rolled into one, and Mondays are $2.50 well drink night at the infamous Cha Cha lounge. Cha Cha is probably my favorite Capitol Hill bar, for several reasons. Namely: Stiff drinks, cheap happy hour, and amazing people watching. Cha Cha is hipster heaven, and tonight was no exception.
Our first encounter though, was a loudly, obnoxiously, humorously drunk trust fund baby from Mercer Island who challenged us on our comics nerd credentials (with Marvel references only, sadly…he was in over his head). But between Valarie zinging him on Jewishness and me calling him out on owning an Audi (a burst of intuition on my part), he was out of his league. The 40 of PBR didn’t help him any, especially when he started accusing people of LARPing (an activity I take pride in having NEVER participated in, despite my other geek cred).
After our 2nd round, we decided it was time for a quick snack to keep us on our feet (literally in some cases), and headed over to Hot Mama’s pizza. Much to our dismay, they closed early, despite the holiday bar crowds on the streets. This gave us a chance to try out Juliano’s, the tiny new pizza place next to the Baltic Room. Juliano’s is the shit…freshly made pizza by the slice with your choice of toppings (none of that pepperoni-pizza-under-a-heat-lamp bullshit here, thank you), with vegan pizza options. Super dope.
Since the night was still young, we slipped back into the Cha Cha for a final round, where we saw the most incredible displays of hipster “fashion.” The guy in the black-and-white striped shirt was a beret away from a full-on faux French shtick, but the prize for the evening was taken by a couple who came in, him in tennis shorts and molester mustache, her in a Studio 54 style, way-too-short brown velour jumpsuit and gold belt (at navel height, no less), topped with a horribly unkempt mullet of the worst white-trash variety. That was too much for us. We either had to leave, or risk getting beat up for making rude comments, so we chose the former.
We could have chosen to continue the evening at Crescent Lounge, but decided we’d hit our limit and headed home. Nothing beats a midweek holiday when it comes to debauchery, I tell you.
