Christmastime Means a District of Drunken Cretins

  district of cord

You, and DupontOne thing I noticed the other night, while watching a girl stumble out of Tom Tom and fall headfirst into a cop car, is that people in DC sure do love to get drunk! Not that residents of other cities don’t also like to imbibe, of course, but I’ve never seen anyone in New York get to a happy hour so lickety-split as people in Dupont Circle, who straight up SWARM the Mad Hatter come 5 p.m. — and that place is nothing but a godforsaken morass of analysts trying to do missionary with still more analysts. Now that it’s the Holiday Season, when even responsible people turn to heavy drinking, it’s time for our Yuletide DC Drunken Ground Rules.

1. Thou shalt never order a damn martini or glass of wine at packed happy hour.

You seen these pricks? The ones who amble up to the bar at 5:15, with dozens of fellow drinkers waiting behind them, order martinis, and then proceed to BITCH when they get their arms jostled and their little drinks spill? I hate these people, and I often see them in places like Georgetown or Bar Dupont. Order a beer or a highball at a crowded bar, and don’t freak if someone bumps you a little. Drinking should be fun.

2. Don’t let anybody make fun of your favorite drink.

Hey, if you’re a guy that likes vodka-cranberries, then you drink those things until the whites of your eyes turn pink, my man! Who cares? A lot of dudes in DC try to do the Southern Gentleman thing and order endless streams of straight bourbon even though they don’t like bourbon at all. You can tell these people by the way they cringe like they’ve been kicked in the nuts every time they take a sip. This is stupid. If you tie your masculinity to your ability to drink brown liquor, you are still so much of a boy that you should not be allowed into a bar.

 
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I drink vodka-sodas with lots of lime juice like I’m some WASPy soccer mom on Long Island. They taste good and they keep me semi-hydrated. The end. (The one caveat here is if your favorite drink is named after any part of the female anatomy — if that’s the case, you deserve to be mocked mercilessly and have all your football paraphernalia burned on top of your beer pong table.)

3. You don’t have to do shots.

Seriously! That “never turn down a drink” stuff is bravado horseshit done by people in cowboy movies. Cowboys also killed brown people at will and died of syphilis. Cowboys are not cool, and neither is drinking a shot of Old Crow and then puking it right back up onto the bar along with your Buca di Beppo fettuccine. If you do not want a shot, you should not take a shot. It’s that simple.

4. Do not hit on the bartender/cocktail server.

This rule does not apply to women, who generally can hit on whomever they’d like. This rule is for men who get off on pretending to be on the opposite side of the power differential between themselves and their work superiors. You see this absolutely everywhere in DC, and it is sociopathic. If you’re really out to show people who’s boss, have children and make them play the sports you sucked at, like a normal son of a bitch. Leave the service people alone.

5. Tip!

You know who doesn’t tip? Australians. And those people are stick-wielding, colonizer maniacs who riot every time they see an Asian with fancier shoes than they have. A buck a drink is good. Two bucks a drink and you’ll get served before everyone, always.

6. If you puke, stop drinking.

Ignoring this rule can sometimes be difficult, especially if you hate yourself. I myself ignored it my entire junior year of college, and I had friends who, whenever they got too drunk, would do something called the “spin cycle.” That meant they would drink a glass of warm water, do a few dozen jumping jacks, then force themselves to vomit up the contents of their bellies before drinking more. They sometimes did this on dates! Nevertheless, vomiting into the urinal like a vagabond and then trying to jam another cocktail down your throat is depressing and stinky and wretched. Also, right around puking time is when you think your racist jokes are charming. They are not. Get into a cab, and brush your teeth when you get home.

7. If you can afford it, buy rounds.

Because they are world-raping contractors and con-artist “consultants,” many white people (and some black people!) in DC remain flush with cash while the rest of the world eats cat food heated up on engine blocks. If you are one of the fortunate people, buy a round or two for your laid-off friends. I promise it will feel better and be a cooler gesture than ordering that LeBron James novelty toilet bowl brush or whatever bullshit is on the teevee.

8. Don’t get sloshed in front of your boss.

“But my boss is basically a garbage bin filled with scotch,” you’re saying. Many bosses are, especially in Washington, but that doesn’t mean you should go dropping your guard in front of them. If you’re out for drinks and your boss is there, have a few beers and then excuse yourself to the Velvet Lounge. Bosses don’t go there because they’re insecure about being too rich and not knowing what music is playing. Then you can drink and dance until you fall over without ever having to worry about somebody being vindictive and canning your ass because of that one party once.

9. Don’t go to gay bars during your bachelorette parties.

This is something weird that I don’t think is unique to DC, but I’ve talked to my gay roommates and they say it is worth mentioning. Just because you like Ellen and think the kid from Ugly Betty is adorable doesn’t stop it from being weird to go to gay bars and scream and drink appletinis out of penis straws the night before you get married. This amounts to basically you looking for a human zoo, where you expect all the attractions to be “fierce” and catty, like the judges on Project Runway. Actually, gay people go to bars to blow off steam just like the rest of us, not to entertain you and your obnoxious bridesmaids. (Also, if you’re doing this in most of the rest of America, it kind of sucks to rub your wedding into the faces of people who can’t legally get married.)

10. Don’t eat that jumbo slice, no matter how wasted you are.

That shit is to pizza what Slim Jims are to beef, and the way the lines extend into the vomit-filled gutters of 18th Street is so undignified. Do you like to feel ashamed while eating? I don’t, and I’m pretty sure shame is all you can summon while standing in a pissey alley, drunk, surrounded by other drunks all eating a triangular piece of hot cheese-trash the size of a baby. Just go home and eat some pasta.

Cord Jefferson’s column appears every week here on Wonkette, unless he’s too tired/hungover/sad from dealing with stupid drunks like you. Redeem yourselves by buying him a drink, or “following” him on the Twitter. Just don’t follow him to his favorite bar.

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About the author

Originally from Tucson, Arizona, Cord Jefferson now lives in Washington where he reports for The Root, Slate and Wonkette. He has only one kidney after donating the second to his once-ill father.

View all articles by Cord Jefferson

Hola wonkerados.

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30 comments

  1. el_donaldo

    Dropping some seriously good etiquette – also, if you get the bartender's attention, don't then just stand there slackjawed trying to figure out what you want to drink. Know before you walk in.

    And #6 – stop drinking after puking? Certain pharmaceuticals, LSD e.g., will void that rule. So be aware of exemptions.

    1. Crank_Tango

      I never could figure out that "being able to drink as much as you want on acid and not get drunk" thing, but let's just say I only let it happen once. One hangover like that is enough for a lifetime.

      1. Neilist

        1/2 of that particular hangover is enough for a lifetime.

        And 1/16th of the peyote/tequila version of that hangover is enough for 10 lifetimes.

      2. LocalGirlMakesGoo

        Oakland, CA, 1999. A fresh-faced, wide-eyed Local Girl on her first acid trip goes for a walk to the ghetto mart to get some smokes and discovers the most beautiful sight. A glowing rainbow with more colors than the usual spectrum. In bottles! For drinking! Called MD 20/20!

        Never again.

  2. Blendergoathead

    No offense, but I'm pretty sure I saw this exact same articlie in Politico, but like four years ago. Or maybe it was one of those helpful, attention-grabbing blurbs you see on the Yahoo! splash page.

  3. SorosBot

    Also, if you're using the jukebox, take a look around the crowd and try and pick songs that seem like most people would enjoy them. For example, if you are in a bar in a major city on the East Coast and want to play some country shit, don't; the vast majority of people there have no desire to hear that crap.

    Fuckin' hicks.

    And if you know the bartender hates a particular song or artist, stay away.

  4. MiniMencken

    Also, never order a pousse-café if you're wearing your winter whites outfit and never, ever, try to slip a rozzer the dropsy in snide. It's carckers, you know.

  5. SayItWithWookies

    I always thought girls went to gay bars with their girlfriends so they could hang out without being hit on.
    Also, many of the problems of being too shitfaced can be solved — preemptively. Have a decent meal before you go out drinking. It takes longer to get drunk with food in your stomach, and eating after you've had five beers doesn't work nearly as well. I've actually seen several people just up and faint without warning, and the first thing I ask them is if they've eaten anything recently.
    Oh, and when you crawl home and hop in bed, have two aspirin and a pint of water. You won't have that headsplitting, hands-feel-like-cinderblocks, death-obsessive, kafkaesque hangover the next morning. You get those later, whether you're hungover or not, so by all means avoid them when you're younger. Or have a few as preparation, what the hell.

    1. tribbzthesquidz

      Girls go to gay bars with their girlfriends because they have cock-empathy. It is possible to over-hag the fag however so don't bring 20 people to teh ghey bar unless a good deal of them are in it for same sex jollies.
      And many amens to food!!!1! There's no other way to get by when one has the taste for booze/drugz/marathon/sex.
      hyphen hyphens hyphenser

    2. Terry

      When I was still young and energetic enough to regularly go to bars, we used to go to gay bars because the dance floors and music tended to be better AND, as you say, because sloppy drunk guys wouldn't hit on us.

      I moved to drinking strong flavored beer almost exclusively when I drink. For me, it starts to taste gross long before I find myself dancing half nekkid on a table or sitting on the floor of a bathroom.

    3. BarryOPotter

      I've actually seen several people just up and faint without warning, and the first thing I ask them is if they've eaten anything recently.

      Are they really talkative at that point? "Oh, yeah, I arrumphatch a gra. Grasch…" *Thud*

      1. SayItWithWookies

        When someone faints, move them to a chair/floor and get them to sit/lie down. Some people will be semiconscious enough for their reflexes to kick in if you try to get them to lie down, so sitting is often your best bet. If they don't have a serious medical condition like diabetes, and especially if they're younger (as you would tend to run into at clubs) it's likely they've been up partying, working, studying and not eating. Once the person is seated though, I've never seen them faint again — most people, after a few minutes rest, can be up and walking around without a problem.

  6. SilverFox

    RE: those "world-raping contractors and con-artist “consultants,”"

    In fact, a good number of them are aware of the racket. And while they work for a bunch of corporate welfare queens that inhale our taxpayer dollars, they are generally pretty nice and generous. If you're a poor Hill or non-profit slob, befriend these folks. Do so with caution, however. Some of them actually think they deserve what they're paid and think what they're doing is important.

  7. ttommyunger

    Preferring reality to make-believe walk/drive/fuck drunky-time, but not wanting to be a prude, I lean over the bar and whisper: "I'll give you a Ten Dollar Bill if you'll give me a glass of water with a little ice." No more vomiting, hangovers, waking up in jail, etc. My glass stays full and I have a great time. No fun, you say? I've had that kind of fun…a lot.

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