Friday evening, I had a girls' night out at the Gay Men's Chorus of Washington holiday concert at Lisner Auditorium. (My friend Sean was the dancer in the fur coat in the Christmas Carol segment, if any of y'all went.) Afterwards, we decided to go out for a drink. We wound up at Red Lion because 1. the other option was a TGIFriday's, and 2. the other option was a TGIFriday's.
So, there we were, a bunch of 30-somethings and almost-30-somethings, hanging out at the college bar. I was gratified to find out that the cast of characters hadn't changed in the last ten years. There was the guy in the ski hat who kept hugging people. The not-attractive couple fondling each other at the bar. The dude who ran around telling all of us that if he could get the whole bar to sing "Another One Bites the Dust," his ex-roommate would pick up his next round. (I found the "ex-roommate" distinction pretty funny - I mean, why not just refer to the guy as your friend?) And, best of all, a very articulate part-time Hooters girl and her well-mannered date, stopping in for a nightcap after a sorority semiformal. The guy called me a "cougar," a term which used to refer to women over 40 who pursue much younger men, but now apparently refers to any woman old enough to rent a car and who is occasionally in the presence of younger men.
The service was outstanding. Our waitress offered to check the ladies' room for vomit before I went in. Who cares about amuse-bouches at Citronelle when you can have a personal barf scout? And Red Lion had its touches of upscale - like the "deconstructed nachos" and the, uh...deconstructed nachos.
But, much like the time in my life where I hung out at the Red Lions of Chapel Hill, all good things must come to an end. My hint that it was time to exit? The sorority girl/Hooters waitress inflated a Magnum ribbed condom and began batting it around the room. Check, please!