Snow, sea, and pumpkin pie…

After downing all those Belgian beers at Busboys and drowning in Gen X irony, I headed over to meet my husband for the next course in DC nightlife Thanksgiving Eve. The snow had just started to fall and he was standing in front of Stetson?s, peering in forlornly. ?It?s closed,? he sighed, but luckily just for renovations. We could see a fresh coat of paint and what looked like a new, ornate wooden bar, perhaps? The last time I was there a fight broke out and the bartender launched himself over the bar to stop it. Stetson?s is a classic.

We decided to walk up to Adams Morgan for dinner, and picked upstairs at The Reef. With the saltwater fish tanks glowing blue and the tall windows providing a perfect view of snow-swept 18th street, we lingered over bison burgers and yet more Belgian ale.

Then it was on to Asylum, where they were having Pumpkin Pie Wrestling. This was moderately intriguing (as voyeurs only, though I was getting nicely tipsy, who knows?) until we discovered it was a $15 cover. So it was downstairs for a crowded nightcap instead. As we were leaving, a guy was lurching around outside in the cold with no jacket. He had that look of drunkenness and wounded pride mixed with a little indignation. ?These people are crazy here,? he kept saying, wobbling in the doorway as a friend tried to hold him up. At first we thought he was covered in vomit. But it was just pumpkin puree.

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