Jonola14

LOCATION: Washington D.C. (District of Columbia).
DATE: 21/08/01.

TIME: 11.00

Panic! We have to be out by 11.00. We lie to the hotel receptionist about our reason for being late, and head off for a long walk to the Greyhound station just to save us $3 each in a taxi.

TIME: 14.15

We manage to all get on a packed Greyhound bus and while away the two hour trip by discussing football and women. Our only worry is that we are not allowed to reserve places in the Washington youth hostel, and it is apparently filling up.

TIME: 17.00

We are in luck, our prayers to the Lord were answered, we have secured places in the hostel. We venture out to explore America's capital and head for a bar offering a choice of 850 bottled beers, so we duly oblige and consume a variety of lager, including Bolivian, Chinese, El Salvadorean, Lebanese, Peruvian and a local brew called Foggy Bottom, served by an excellent waiter that resembled Willy Wonka.

TIME: 22.00

We search up and down the district of Adam's Morgan for a decent, lively-looking bar with a few birds in, and decide to try one called Madam's Organ, which we all agree is an excellent play on words. There is a talented musician playing music live, country style tunes with a guitar and a mouth organ, but it becomes more and more repetitive and irritating during the evening. Unfortunately there is no female talent, so we drink three Buds and leave. Payno is harassed by a waitress for not tipping her.

TIME: 24.00

We are recommended a bar called the Common Share, which seems to be a run-down, seedy dump with heavy thrash music and a heavily male dominated clientele, it should suit us nicely. Fuller, whilst waiting for the disgusting, lock-less toilet, manages to begin conversation with two American girls that were really rather ugly. "You're English?" they ask in a keen, somewhat superficial manner. "That's right" is his reply, "oh" they say, "we do discounts for English people". "So you work around here do you?" Fuller enquires. "No, we're from out of town, but we do discounts for English people" they reply, with a wink of the eye and a reassuring nod, telling him indirectly that they are, in fact, prostitutes.

The barman puts on a Rage Against The Machine cd to the delight of Quiff and Ellis, and proceeds to head-bang and throw himself around behind the bar. Fuller manages to wangle five VIP passes to a club up the road, but when we eventually check it out, it proves to be unsuitable for our kind.

The atmosphere in the Common Share is excellent and everyone's friendly enough, the beer is cheap, and the service is entertaining. The prostitutes slyly and cunningly reposition themselves right next to us, but we leave before we give them the chance to make money out of us. The route home offers us a rest stop at a pizza parlour and we consume more pizza than is imaginable.