Hippies are fantastic.

Last night, Kate and I decided to be adventurous and try out some brand new bars.  Because the only better than the bar?  New bars!  So we decide the best location for our adventure is Adams Morgan.  Which has roughly 5893015404938 bars per block.  Success was guaranteed before we even left.  


Stop #1:  Pharmacy Bar
Absolutely hilarious, total dive, complete hole-in-the-wall.  Loved it.  It's a really small bar, with a really diverse crowd.  There were hipster kids who were impressed with their skinny jeans and aversion to personal hygiene, but there were also some super preppies around.  Which made for some fantastic people watching.  But the real star of Pharmacy Bar was the bartender.  Or, as I henceforth referred to him, my dad 30 years ago.  No joke.  There a few framed pictures in our house of when my dad was hiking the trail--well, technically trails--and this is exactly what this dude looked like.  Lanky, long hair, replete with the cowboy bandana tied around his head.  It's like how pictures in Harry Potter move and people can move from one picture of themselves to another, but instead of moving to another picture, my 30 years ago dad moved behind the bar.  When I shared this theory with Kate, she heartily agreed.  Merely reinforcing my astute assessment of events which transpired before my birth.  I also texted my mom to tell her about finding Bert 30 years ago and she said "I can only imagine!  Oh, wait.  I was there 30 years ago".  Which I found ridiculously hilarious.  Also? Bert's 30 year ago Waluigi mixes a fantastic g&t.  Perfect amount of g, perfect amount of t, excellent slice of lime.  My hat is off to you, sir.  


Stop #2:  Peyote
Yes, just like the drug.  This fantastic gem is a basement bar, but it has windows so you can keep track of life while in the bar.  The best part of Peyote is that it's a karaoke bar.  And everyone always choose fantastic songs to karaoke at this bar.  (Which just reminded me of the episode of How I Met Your Mother, The Pineapple Incident, in which Ted discovers that karaoke means empty orchestra and says that it's "hauntingly beautiful" and proceeds to tell everyone that fact.)  Plus, they mix a mean g&t.  At this point you might be asking yourself where they do not mix a mean g&t.  And I will satisfy your curiosity and tell you.  G&T's are not delicious at Irish Times.  Blech. But back to my night of delightful g&t's.  Kate and I enjoy rocking out to karaoke, until one girl makes us hate our lives for 4 minutes.  (Which is the main reason I don't participate in karaoke, unless it's a group activity.)  And then responsible Katerade made us leave the bar and we came home and I was in my bed at 1:36 a.m.  Fan-freaking-tastic.