The Return of the Great Assholio (pt. ii)

So, we leave Lulu's and head to Porters. This is another establishment that nobody had been to before. We get in, grab a beer, and kinda hang back by this area at the end of the bar near the door. Then, we decide (and I may be mistaken, but I believe this was prompted by a skirt) to make our way back. I get a slight separation between myself and the boys, which is just enough not to see where they go. I choose wrong, of course, and go downstairs. As it turns out, it was only wrong in the sense that this was not where the boys were. I found out, upon our reunion, that it was definitely more happening than the upstairs route they took. Anyway, we return to the floor on which we entered and found a nice spot near a beam and these benches along the wall. We basically just surveyed the scene, with me taking a break to "sing" along to "Kiss" (by Prince) when it came on. We officially declared it "dead" (ha!) shortly after and left. Our next stop: Sign of the Whale, right around the corner.

Oh yeah...

So, we get there, passing the Madhatter (just next door), which has a ridiculously long line coming out of its roughly Fotomat sized interior. People, please. There are so many bars on this crawl, why not go find one where you are not constantly dry-humping strangers just to get close enough to the bar to ask for a shitty Bacardi O? Of course, SotW was not much better. We go in, and something just snapped in me. It may have been the music playing (fuck Bon Jovi, okay?), or (much more likely) my testosterone and alcohol levels were pushed into the red simultaneously. Whatever it was, I went kinda insane. I started screaming "can you believe all the guys in here with vaginas?" and "this place is packed wall to wall with pussy" and so forth. When I would pass some duck, I'd say (loud enough to be heard, mind you) "excuse me, miss" or "pardon me, ma'am." Unbelievably, nobody decided to play the role of tough guy. Not a one. And I found this, in my fabulously inebriated state, disappointing. I think I was really ready to deal on the first jackass who even looked at me cockeyed. At one point, while we're in the back, beers in hand, this clown walks by and I start to mock him with this little jig (if you've seen the movie So I Married An Ax Murderer, you should know the one I'm talking about; yes, I was so drunk I stooped to ripping off Mike Myers). Well, as I'm doing this, this cute girl and her friend ("I specifically requested...") walk by, and the girl starts dancing right at me. Then she comes up to me and tells me I have to flip my collar up...

(RANT: Okay, why in the world is this fucking fashion disaster back? I find it an atrocity and I think the precious men and women who have started flipping their collars up, in some futile effort to look fashion-minded, should be stoned in the street and then sterilized. Fucking wastes of blood and tissue, my lord...)

I tells her, I says "You have to give me one of those beads if you want me to do that." So she obliges. Being a man of my word, I flip it up, and she puts her arms around me so her friend can take a picture of us. Post photo, I immediately return the collar to its natural non-Queer Eye state, and ask her what she's doing the rest of the night. She said something drunkenly about drinking more (*swoon*) and going to another bar (possibly Lulu's) but now she had to go to the bathroom. Somewhere in all of this, she must have asked me for my name (or I offered it, who knows), because as she's coming back from the bathroom, she stops by and says "Damian, you have to keep this collar up" and she clumsily pulls it up, then walks off. After our beers are finished, it's back out into the night. Again, all the way out, whenever I have to press by a guy, it's "excuse me, miss" or "pardon me, ma'am." No takers. Oh well, that's probably for the best. Still, this is turning out to be a terrible "Year of the Bar Fight."

Oh yeah, re: the photo, CO stated "you know that's going to be on somebody's blog tomorrow." Ha! I can only wish for such immortality.

Once outside, we decide to head to The Front Page, up in Dupont Circle. I am definitely more calmed down now, though I'm still taking swipes at ducks here or there, including outside the men's room at FP, while waiting for JG to emerge, when I directed some dudes coming down the steps by saying "bathroom's this way, ladies."

We go upstairs, and we stand by the bar on the side of the establishment near the restrooms. There, we watch this totally trashed (and slightly trashy) girl gyrate sexily for her boyfriend. After a few minutes here, we walk to the other side, near the dancefloor and get some more beer in us. On this side, we watch another drunk girl freak this guy she's with at the bar. The way they were going it would lead one to believe that they were mere seconds away from one of those "beside the dumpster in the alley" fucks. But, when I went up (ha!) and asked the dude if he was going to be hitting that, he actually said he wasn't. Hilarious.

After our beer, we decided to leave again and go back to Lulu's, by which time things should have definitely picked up. And things were definitely livelier, but not in any major way. We grab the same table we were at the last time and got more beers. (Oh, this just came back to me: on one of the visits to Lulu's--I believe it was the first--I squirted a dollop of ketchup on my hand, a la the salt for a shot of tequila, and sucked it right off. What in the world was I thinking?) Unfortunately, I had backslid a bit into my misanthropy for the night, mocking some of the ducks that passed by our table. At this point, I believe the boys just gave up and withdrew a conversation about...something. War, cars, the price of tea in Kenya. Something. All I know is that after the discussion, I turned to CO and says to him, "So, who would win in a fight, Rommel or Francis Marion?" I'm pretty sure he came back with "I will stab you" or something like that. After hitting the head one more time, we decided to call it an evening. We parted ways at the exit of Lulu's, the boys heading to the Metro while I went home, stopping for McDonald's (again...ugh) on the way. I got home, killed the food, talked to EMT on the phone for a bit, and then crashed, waking up seven hours later to begin this day, which was an awesome outing with AK. I shall detail this soon, I suspect. Until then, read and laugh at my public shame. 'Nuff said!