The Bar Belle: Rhino Bar and Pumphouse

3295 M St. N.W.

For the first Thursday night of fall semester, I had plans to go out big and head to one of the promo events in true Bar Belle style. However, my plan hit a road block when I became quite inebriated at the wee hour of four in the afternoon. I awoke around 10 that night only to realize I was slightly hung over. However I stuck to my original plan nonetheless. Hell, I’d already gone to Nieman’s the day before and bought my clubbing outfit.

A phone call later confirming that lines for the promo club were around the block combined with my all-female posse’s desire for polo and khaki clad boys, we decided to head straight to Rhino’s. We took a few pre-game shots, hopped in a cab and laughed all the way to Georgetown as we passed the promo club, our peers lined up and pissed off outside.

As we approached the door of Rhino’s, a group of preppy boys outside were a good indication of the scene inside. After all five of us were grilled on our IDs (I wouldn’t try to use a fake) we bypassed the near empty downstairs and headed upstairs to the crowd, making a beeline for the bar to the tune of Franz Ferdinand’s “Take Me Out.”

Despite the bartenders’ fit appearances, they were slow to bring us drinks and even forgot my beer. My verdict was the steroids were clouding the brain. Corona and Yuengling were $2, but high-end drafts were around $5, similar to the rail drinks. We sat at the bar sipping our drinks and checking out the scene, which consisted mainly of polo-garbed white undergrad males playing pool or watching sports on the mounted televisions.

I ran into one of my guy friends from Georgetown who is a regular at Rhino’s and asked him what he thought about the bar. He basically said that the bar needed more girls, and hotter ones, an idea I confirmed in my mind as I looked around at the packs of hot guys standing in their cliques sipping expensive beers. We danced to classic and contemporary rock and were the only ones when I heard the shout for last call at 1:30 a.m. I returned to my camp, and the girls and I decided to end the night with a round of SoCo and lime shots.

As we stumbled down the steps – five hot girls leaving without any guys – I decided that Rhino’s is the type of bar where everyone knows your name, that is if you’re a Hoya.

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