Mink Thinks

Despite the fact that thus far in 2008 DC weather has transitioned from Winter to Seattle, it seems the sun is finally returning from it's seasonal hiatus. Yeah, it's about to beat down on us with authority, making red-haired, freckle-faced folk rue the day they cursed the first half of April's constant gloominess. Still, life ain't too bad when there's an abundance of outdoor establishments just waiting to cool you down with something frosty. Now that the Spring is officially upon us, the young and old alike (prepare thyself to enter the Cougar Den) flock to the outdoor bars of DC. There's nothing like a balmy night to stir up the bloodstream and send us all out looking for the "scene" - a know-it-when-you-find-it mix of the right atmosphere, crowd, and vibe tossed in with a few expertly concocted cocktails. "Where can this be found in DC?" you might ask. If so, you are new to town or you have yet to crawl out from under the rock you've been residing under. In DC, the Spring "scene" can be found at the Georgetown Waterfront and, for those brave enough to "cross the bridge", in Clarendon.

Back in early April, around the time when everyone's "Huge Outdoor Barbeque/Luau/Fiesta!" (what, you didn't get the Evite?) turned into three poor saps standing under a canopy eating water logged hot dogs, DC was blessed with one Friday night of sweet warmth. Whatever plans had been made for the night were revamped and DC nightlife focused in laser-like on one destination: the Georgetown Waterfront.

On the night in question, I had actually planned on taking it easy. A "chill" Thursday out with a couple of the fellas had turned into an "I'm freaking over-the-hill" hangover on Friday. Once I stepped out the glass enclosed Mink Events world HQ that evening, however, thoughts of hitting Blockbuster quickly dissolved. Visions of tall cocktails and short skirts spiked my adrenaline, and the Waterfront called to me like a siren. Melodrama aside, the weather made me feel like getting drunk. Apparently this mood was infectious, as my cell phone started blowing up. I answered my phone without even saying hello: "Waterfront - my place - one hour."

We rolled up at around 10 and the Waterfront was in full swing. I had never seen it so packed - there were lines to get into the outdoor bars and the crowds were overflowing out into the public areas by the fountain. Soaking in the scene, I figured that if a tidal wave hit and we all met our doom that night, bodies of women could only be identified by the serial numbers on their Tiffany bracelets. Rows of drunken, aging frat-boys sat on the patios and applauded women as they strolled by. This is a DC phenomenon exclusive to the Waterfront - apparently the area of seating by the ropes is reserved for guys too inept and/or scared to actually approach and talk to women, but who feel like they are in on the action (and at the same time protected from rejection by the ropes) hooting for the chicks they don't have the balls to talk to. Ladies, stay to the center of the bar and avoid the outskirts at all costs!

Despite their clumsy attempts at social interaction, those clapping fools are on to something. People watching at the Waterfront is second to none. Look in one direction and you might spot a girl on her way to her Senior Prom (you missed that train by about 13 years, sweetheart), swivel your head and you'll catch a glimpse of Daisy from the Dukes of Hazzard, focus in front of you and you might ask yourself how many leopards it took to make those pants. It is a perversely homogeneous yet diverse crowd, if that makes any sense. The crew and I are never content in one place for too long, and soon the people watching did not merit another wait in line. Still wanting to take advance of the evening, we decided our next spot would be the outside deck at one of the "Golden Triangle" bars in Clarendon.

Now, I know "Golden Triangle" is a name already used to describe the lower Dupont Circle (or midtown) area of DC. When this term is used to describe a trio of popular bars in Clarendon, however, the meaning is entirely different. In the case of midtown, Golden Triangle denotes a neighborhood that is of a high caliber and class; in Clarendon, the name conjures the image of a wedge of cheese. Yes, there are no group of bars where one can find a higher "cheese ratio" (or "cheesiness per capita") then amongst the Clarendon Golden Triangle. Hanging out there is similar to a party in high school - you see the same faces at different places. It is impossible to hang out for more than five minutes without bumping into someone and getting caught in this dreaded conversation: "Hey, what's up?"..."Nothing much, what's up with you?"..."Oh, you know, same stuff, working, hanging out."..."Yeah, same here." Usually, after this long lost love or good friend walks away, you are asked "Who was that?" to which you inevitably reply, "I forget his/her name."

There are a few predominant archetypes that can found here: guys who were nerds in high school and now at last have a sense of self-esteem bred from having discovered the gym, getting drunk and having spiky hair, or former co-eds who haven't grasped the fact that at 27 the metabolism ain't racing like it used to (as my buddy put it after meeting a girl who went to school in the mid-west - "she got the Michelin from Michigan"), to name just a couple.

Don't get me wrong - it's always a reliably good time here. If you are looking for equal parts attractive people, danceable music, and inebriation (and who isn't), you can find it in Clarendon. There is nothing a like catching a buzz while dancing with a cutie to the night's third repetition of an old Jay-Z song ("what what"), even if you do vaguely recall dancing iwth same girl to the same song two years ago. While slightly disconcerting, I always play if off as deja-vu.

With our thirst for fresh air satiated, it was time to call it a night. As last call sounded, the immortal words of Ice Cube came to mind: "After the club it's either breakfast or lovin'." Thank God for IHOP! In the morning another miracle occurred - the sun was shining yet again. On a day like this one feels compelled to get out there and tackle the world. After a night like the last one, my boys and I spent the day virtually tackling each other, playing Madden on the 360. Ok, maybe it's ironic that the partying done in a few precious hours outside on Friday night had wrecked us for a full day on Saturday. No worries though, by that night we were feeling recharged and the weather was back to virtual-Moscow. Good times, people, good times.