Originally Published 02/26/98
Bar: Mr. Days’Where: 1111 19th St. N.W.Crowd: Students on Tuesdays, middle-aged women on weekendsGetting in: Need an IDPrices: Fair, no coverFood: Pretty goodDancing: Yes – especially for those who don’t know howPick-ups: DefinitelyPluses: Music, TVs, foodMinuses: Hard to find
To all devoted Hatchet readers, barflies and general booze hounds: I’d like to say hello. This is the inaugural column of the Bar Brawn, and I welcome all to my world. But before trusting me, let my give a few of my credentials. I began to search for the perfect bar at the tender age of 16. During my five-year quest, I’ve seen the inside and outside of bars from 37 states and five continents, and have weathered two dry spells during which the forces of evil removed my not-so-real identification. I am by no means an expert, but my passion is real.
Let’s begin with the first review of the Bar Brawn’s career. This past weekend I went to Mr. Days’, unaware of my new identity, but still alert to what the bar has to offer. I first was struck by the plethora of TV screens, faithfully showing all the sports events that almost kept me on my couch. The second positive that grabbed my attention was the music. They played all the best of the ’80s – from Madonna to Rob Base. Something was there for each of my compadres to enjoy, including a variety of good bar food.
But two items were conspicuously missing from this otherwise superlative bar: pool tables and, more importantly, good-looking girls. The dance floor was packed with middle-aged – I hate to say it but it’s true – fat chicks sweating to the oldies. But to their credit, they were having a blast. Incredibly enough, they wore clothes with colors besides black!
In conclusion, I recommend this bar to everyone. Go to Mr. Days’, forget Georgetown pretensions, wear colors and have a damn good time.
This article appeared in the February 26, 1998 issue of the Hatchet.