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Drift
Reality > Washington,
DC > McFaddens
When
I was a wee girl at Georgetown, I would often hear about Champs,
a legendary bar where football players, lacrosse players, and
their freshmen groupies would gather to drink cheap beer and engage
in conversation that had all the trappings of the banter one might
hear in a special-education class.
Actually,
I'm not giving the special education students enough credit.
It
had all the trappings of the banter one might hear in a philosophy
class and it smelled like a French whorehouse. Not that I know
what a French whore house smells like, mind you, it's just that
I think French people smell bad and whores smell bad, so two and
two equals, well, you know how that one goes...
I
went once or twice and I never scored. Then again, that was pretty
much par for the course in my social life, so I guess I shouldn't
hold that against Champs.
What
can I say? It was dirty, the girls were annoying, and there were
a bunch of meatheads lumbering around like drunken golems. Then
again, the beer was fairly cheap and a lot of guys (not me) got
luck there.
Well,
if Champs was to grow up, it would indubitably become McFaddens
- a cleaner, more sophisticated (if one can use the word "sophisticated"
in this situation) version of Champs, where the former College
athletes have gotten fat and bald and become republicans, yet
the intrinsic "meat-market" quality that was always
associated with Champs, has not disappeared completely.
No,
don't be scared, it's actually quite amusing as long as you go
with the understanding that you are not going to have an interesting
conversation with anyone on any topic other than politics, law
firms, or money.
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