M street in Georgetown
Dancing: kind of
Pluses: no cover
Minuses: if your sober, don’t go
Thank God last weekend is over … it was a roughie. Although there were no nights spent on the bathroom floor, it was nonetheless a daunting task to entertain the social commitments demanded by a four-day weekend.
Unfortunately, the weekend got off to a rather rocky start. A handle of rum mysteriously disappeared from the Bar Belle’s room sometime during the span of winter break. This was very disturbing since the Belle and her roommates often fall back upon the token bottle for the nights they’re strapped for cash. To make matters worse, the authorities in a particular dorm were not receptive to the idea of a report being filed and an investigation undertaken.
Saturday night, the Bar Belle went to Georgetown with friends whom she had never gone out with before. This was an exciting prospect, because with new people often comes a new perspective of rather old places. (It didn’t hurt that the girls weren’t skimpy with the uptake of alcohol.)
To make a long story longer, the Bar Belle was blitzed. No, she didn’t fall down or conduct any lewd acts. She just couldn’t taste the vodka in her cranberry juice, so she got more added … and continued with this routine until things got a little blurry.
With that, she was led down a dark alleyway riddled with puddles and a dumpster. They turned and went down some shady steps where an even shadier man scrutinized their IDs. Welcome to the backdoor of The Guards.
It reminded the Belle of an infamous porn of the early ’90s, the award-winning, “Backdoor to Buttsville.” It wasn’t that different, because inside they encountered a Buttsville of their own. The ceilings were low, the walls were dark and it resembled an old basement of a house in the Midwest.
The Bar Belle obtained another drink and tried to go to the restroom, but Buttsville’s bouncer wouldn’t let her pass. How was she supposed to know the lights were on and last call had been announced 30 minutes ago? Somehow, she made it home … safely nonetheless, most likely by the aid of a fine looking young man.
In retrospect, if you like it dirty, go to The Guards, through the backdoor.