Bar Belle: Rhino Bar

Where: 3295 M St. N.W.
Carded: Twice at door
Dress: preppy
Specials: none on Friday night, but go on Saturday for $2 drinks until midnight

When I mentioned to a friend who went to Georgetown University that I was planning to go to Rhino Bar, he immediately told me it was the sketchiest place in Georgetown. He added that it’s also our Northwest neighbor’s equivalent of a frat house. I wasn’t in the mood to go anywhere associated with “sketchy” or “frat house,” but since my friend often exaggerates, I decided to give Rhino Bar a try.

The bar’s atmosphere turned out to be neither sketchy nor anything like a frat party. My intent that night was to relive sophomore year, during which my roommates and I were perpetually drunk. Although we pre-partied with a bowl of Jell-O shots and danced to our favorite embarrassing songs, sophomore year it was not. Happily, I didn’t wake up with a hangover, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

After being carded twice at the door, I was surprised at how big Rhino Bar is. I was also surprised at how many guys were there. The male-to-female ratio was easily four to one.

Making my way upstairs, I was surprised again at how big the second floor was. A bar stood in the center of the room, where there were three pool tables, couches in corners and televisions on the walls.

Taking a seat at the bar, I realized that the crowd was very Georgetown – in dress and in conversation – and that each member of the male bar staff was extremely hot. Despite what my Georgetown alum friend said earlier, I found it hard to detect a sketchy vibe from a guy wearing a striped-green Oxford shirt and cargo shorts. I even saw a guy wearing a sports coat. A sports coat!

Despite the social atmosphere, many patrons were sitting at the bar watching the baseball games on TV or playing pool. My friends and I, however, chose to lustfully stare at and chat with our hot bartender.

We bought drinks for standard prices. Beers cost between $3 and $4.50, and martinis cost $5. Beware of the rail drinks, however. From my seat at the bar, I saw the signature red and blue label of Zelko staring at me for most of the night.

I made a stop downstairs before leaving. A few people were on the small dance floor, with the required older men leering. OK, so I guess it was a bit sketchy, after all. There was plenty of seating available downstairs, even though the bar, with its large rhino head, was a tight squeeze.

The Hatchet has disabled comments on our website. Learn more.