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A retelling of my life in DC and all the stupid ass sh!t I get myself into...


I didn't write this, I won't even pretend to take credit for it. I mean, read it... that's nothing like how I write. But it is a fun recap of what WNDC is. Well done sir, well done. So, much like a retweet, here ya go:

The bartender cooly swaps another pourer from the latest casualty and knocks it into place on a fresh bottle of vodka. Our group has been here just over an hour, now, propping up the well-worn bar with elbows and torsos, and comfort is setting in. We ignore the cycle of generic, fresh-faced posers, seeking an audience for their faux-casual disdain of everything, and a small knot of cougars nearby, death-gripping youth as tightly as their martinis. The buzz is growing in lock-step with the volume of the room but our conversation still meanders among topics as casually as ever, frequently punctuated by laughter at light-hearted (and decidedly low-brow) jokes. Listeners in the group trade places, picking up chicken wings and themes mid-sentence from our friends with similar ease. A cameraphone photo of an enormous, just-delivered red-bull-&-vodka becomes a summoning call to group members not yet here, or those just in the bathroom.

Ours is not an occasion of celebration or mourning - or even alcoholism, however "dedicated" our barstaff may consider us. We are humble in this "sedate" night out (defined as not drinking the bar dry, getting arrested, or somehow launching a coup in a third-world country) (again), but revel in the fact that even our sedate Wednesdays keep the service staff overworked and MADD members up at night. Like so many birthday celebrants, we insist that whatever number we reach by night's end is only a number - if it matters at all, it won't before tomorrow morning. The slips of receipt paper are our (weekly) birthday cards, foldable reminders of fun gatherings with friends done on a regular interval. Whether the night ends with forced ejections and vibrant carousing or just with sleepy, mumbled bon mots ("You're... so awesome... @sshole!"), we mark the middle of another week with liveliness, merriment, and usually another raised glass.

We are WNDC. We are probably drunk.


posted by Cptn S.A. Ho @ 10:01 PM,


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