Damn you, Activision

Anyone who knows me knows that I love video games. And I'm pretty damn good at them. As a nerdy kid I became ridiculously good at Pac Man (without learning a pattern from a book, I made up my own), and from there it just went downhill. There's hardly a video game I didn't waste countless hours (and quarters) mastering.

Then, of course, console and computer video games came along. Goodbye teenage social life. It took me years to recover from that. Luckily, I more or less gave up video games in college, when beer and girls suddenly became more interesting than Ultima III. With the exception of a brief stint that began with the dawn of the first person shooter (I mean, c'mon, Doom was like nothing I'd ever seen before, how could I not get hooked on that?) and finally ended with many 4 AM session of Unreal Tournament, I cut myself off. Call it a self-intervention. I deleted all that crap from my computer and didn't play video games any more.

Until now. I got a new roommate a few weeks ago who brought an Xbox 360 into my house. Seemed innocent enough. I'm over that, I can handle it.

Enter Guitar Hero.

I'm probably the last person on earth to have gotten hooked into this craze, but it hooked me hard. I mean, it combines all my favorite things - rocking out, playing guitar (sort of), and video games. It's air guitar with a scoreboard. And believe it or not I actually believe that the finger dexterity it develops will help me when playing ACTUAL guitar (which I swear will happen again. Once I can get through Knights of Cedonia on Hard).

So anyway. I am telling you all this so you know why I haven't posted much lately. It's because I'm completely sleep deprived from staying up until all hours playing Guitar Hero, instead of thinking of things to blog about.

I believe I've taken the first step towards recovery. I'm aware that I have a problem. I also have a pulled muscle in my right arm from playing Dragon Force's "Through the Fire and Flames" on Medium last night. Badly, I might add. How the hell does anyone play this on Hard, much less Expert?

There I go again. I am going to try to care about something other than this game. To that end I decided to finally take the plunge and get a digital SLR camera. I decided on the Nikon D60, it is now officially on order and I should have it in a day or two. If it takes an expensive new toy to get me away from the life-sucking Xbox then so be it.

The 911 Script

Yesterday at 11 AM, Adams Morgan again became the wild west as a Latino male was shot in broad daylight. The Prince of Petworth's story has an excellent account of the events in the comments.

There's also a bit of discussion there about the way the 911 operator handled the call. I was immediately reminded of the last time I called 911. They said the operator would not dispatch police until being given a street address. My own experience was similar. I told them I was on 11th Street NW between Park and Monroe. After negotiating about whether it was Park Place or Park Road for a while, they demanded a block number (which luckily I know because I live a couple blocks away) despite the fact that I'd told them it was halfway between two streets.

By the way there is a Park Place in DC - but it sure as hell doesn't intersect with 11th, in fact, it's parallel. If you put 11th and Park NW into Google Maps, it pulls up the right place in a second. Apparently, 911 operators don't have internet access.

I am sure there's some reason for this amount of anal retentiveness when fielding 911 calls, but whatever it is, it's not good enough. When you call 911, you're freaked out. That's why you called - because there's a crisis or all bloody hell is breaking loose. You don't have time to look for street numbers on nearby buildings, if there even were any to be found. You don't have time to go to the corner and look at the block number on a street sign, if there even is a street sign.

I understand if people give ambiguous directions or don't say the quadrant. But that is not the case in these situations. If you give a 911 operator an intersection, or a block between two streets, there should be no reason for any further discussion. This is how we tell cabs where we are going, this is how we describe locations to our friends. It works. Just. Fine.

This situation delays police response and frustrates people to no end. Why can't this be fixed?

My First Bike Commute

Well, I'm about six weeks late for Bike to Work day, but I finally got it together. In my own defense, my bike was trapped at City Bikes for three weeks because of a defective fork. But I got it back last week, good as new. There it is, kids: my bike, with me, in the office. I fully expect it to start raining around 5 PM.

Here's the skinny.

Distance:	Approx. 4.9 miles.
Temperature:	Approximately 72 degrees, overcast, slight humidity. Not bad.
Duration:	Approximately 28 minutes door to door. Better than metro. Worse than driving.
Route:	Start on 13th Street in CoHi*. Cut over to 14th at first opportunity, and take bike lane to Aspen Street where 14th ends at Walter Reed. Head towards Georgia, and proceed across to 9th Street and resume north, avoiding Georgia. When 9th ends, go back to Georgia. Realize I should have gone to 8th instead which goes farther. Proceed up Georgia in right lane, looking over shoulder frequently as large vehicles whiz by me. Get scared and cut over to 16th Street by way of Eastern Avenue. Forget how steep hill is from 16th & Eastern to 16th and Spring. Decide this route sucks after 14th Street ends. Finally get to office, sweating.
Pros:	Save $4 per day on gas (and $85 a month on parking should I go full time), wear and tear on car. Free exercise Cease to be a hypocrite by driving every day to my enviromental consulting firm job; possibly sleep better at night. Adrenaline as good or better than caffeine: eliminates need for morning coffee Become part of mysterious, nerdy-yet-athletic bike-to-work culture.
Cons:	Biking uphill for five miles when you've only been awake for 30 minutes ain't no walk in the park. Will most certainly have to shower at work when the weather is warmer an more humid. The last mile or so after Walter Reed is problematic. I can do better than I did, but see no way to avoid either Georgia or nasty hill & superhighway traffic on 16th at the very end. Riding through residential neighborhood on 8th/9th to avoid georgia involves crossing many streets without 4-way stops, and people getting in their cars to go to work who apparently are incapable of seeing bicycles. Become part of mysterious, nerdy-yet-athletic bike-to-work culture.

Overall, it wasn't bad, and was definitely kind of fun. And, since the ride home is all DOWNHILL, it will undoubtedly be a lot faster and even more fun. I'm going to try to stick with it. We'll see how my resolve is when I've got a a hangover and it's 103 degrees.

*Columbia Heights. I apologize for joining the bandwagon with these irritating neighborhood nicknames copped from NYC. Annoying as it is, this one is rapidly becoming commonplace, and it is kinda convenient. Because I'm CoHi.... CoHi... but I ain't touched the sky...

Forest Hills Frank: Buzzkill, AND Hypocrite

Startling developments today in the Frank Winstead saga. City Paper reporter Jason Cherkis, in his tireless efforts to create entertainment by getting a statement from Frank, has obtained exclusive video footage of Frank at his apartment, refusing to comment.

But the CP expose has overlooked the real story here. CP's shocking video reveals that Frank is harboring an exotic bird in his apartment. Frank lives at "The Brandywine," an apartment building on Connecticut Avenue. A bit of web sleuthing reveals that The Brandywine does not allow pets!

This profile of The Brandywine clearly indicates that Frank is harboring an avian creature in violation of the terms of his lease. Frank, the man who calls out Mary Cheh for failing to turn her wheels to the curb in violation of an obscure DC regulation, is living a lie! The ANC commissioner apparently thinks that rules are meant to be followed only by other people, while he can endanger the health and well being of his fellow residents without consequence. Truly, this man is a monster.

In order to find out who this monster really is, we put our crack team of digital forensic reconstructionists on the job. We have come away with damning revelations about Forest Hills Frank's true identity. Below, we see a capture of the only known image of Frank Winstead to exist on the Internet, from CP's video. It had been theorized that he was, in fact, a bloodsucking vampire, and hence photography would be impossible. But CP has debunked that myth, since we can clearly see Frankie peeking out of his apartment in this still. On the right is Frank's face blown up and enhanced.



Here at Farm Fresh Meat, we employ only the latest and most advanced digital enhancement software available today via The Pirate Bay. After hours of digital processing, the truth began to appear. When the process finally completed, the startling image below was revealed:

ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES FRANK A DULL BOY!!!

I strongly urge anyone residing at The Brandywine to vacate immediately, or risk Asian Bird Flu and possible dismemberment. Get out while you still can!! Mr. Cherkis is lucky to have survived this encounter.

Ping Pong is no longer the greatest threat to Connecticut Avenue.

The Hand Is Faster Than The Eye

Who is this man of mystery? His wry grin and impeccable outfit have graced our neighborhood bars on several occasions in the last week or so. But it's not just his old world charm that has captivated the imaginations of the pub patrons at Wonderland and The Red Derby.

This man, who identified himself only as Frank, has entertained and amazed us with feats of illusion. As dozens watched slack-jawed -- agape with wonder, or perhaps with Jamison -- he defied gravity by levitating cigarettes, made coins disappear and reappear, activated our cell phones with the power of his mind, astounded us with card trick clairvoyance, and generally made us wonder if we should have skipped the last drink.

The existence of this photograph of Frank and, er, someone else, proves that he exists, and is not a mere figment of my chili dog. I asked for a card, but of course, one who travels in the shadows cannot be encumbered by such mundanities. He did give me a web site, though, which I promptly text-messaged to myself: frankilliusionst.com. But alas, when I tried to visit his etheareal presence on the Internet, it was not to found. That domain name has never even been registered. I must have misunderstood what he said.

Or perhaps - he was never meant to be found.

Alison Krauss & Robert Plant @ MPP 6/14/08

Last Friday was a gorgeous day - after seemingly endless days of sweltering heat and humidity, the weather finally broke midweek. I had tickets for the show at Merriweather Post Pavilion on Friday and it was a perfect day for an outdoor concert.

Alison Krauss and Robert Plant performed what they called a "revue" of their joint effort, "Raising Sand." The album has been enormously successful, but if for some reason you haven't heard it, it's definitely worth a listen. It's a bit of an oddity being a retro-sounding mix of folk, country, bluegrass and blues, and it's a very nice listen. It's also very low key record - and I was wondering how it would translate onto the big outdoor concert stage. They pulled it off stunningly. The backup band was fantastic, including the record's producer T Bone Burnett on guitar and bass. The more upbeat performances had an energy that exceeded the recording's format, while the ballads were rich and powerful.

In addition to playing many of the tracks from Raising Sand, they covered a few Led Zeppelin songs, including a completely rearranged and toned-down "Black Dog," "Hey Hey What Can I Do,""Black Country Woman," and a perfect rendition of "The Battle of Evermore" which was a perfect fit for the two, having been originally recorded as a duet with a female vocalist on Led Zeppelin IV. They also covered a number of traditional bluegrass songs including "Down To the River To Pray." The complete setlist can be found here.

There were a few negatives, having nothing to do with the performance. Merriweather is my favorite place to see a big outdoor show in the DC area. The other alternatives are really RFK and Nissan Pavilion, the latter of which I vowed more than 10 years ago to never return. Wolf Trap is a great venue too, but it's less than half the size of Nissan and consequently doesn't book larger acts.

We got there early and tailgated in the parking lot for an hour or so, only entering the amphitheater as showtime approached. I was surprised to find the lawn was pretty well packed, since judging by the number of cars in the lot, it didn't seem like anywhere near a sellout. Maybe with gas over $4 a gallon there's a lot more carpooling since my last show here. But in order to get any amount of open grass we had to settle near the back part of the lawn.

The crowd was older on average, but we had the misfortune of choosing to sit near the one gang of college kids who don't know how to hold their bud light yet. By the end of the show they were hootin' and hollerin'. At one point during the encore, I'd had enough. I literally yelled at them to shut the hell up at least for the last song. Twice. They did not even hear me. I think one of their group who had a little bit more neighborly concern than the rest must have heard me though, because they did seem to get settled down after a little while.

Two of the drunk fans captured with stealth backwards photograph.

For the record I am loathe to tell people to shut up at big outdoor concerts. Indoors, in seats, is one thing, and I won't be shy to tell you what I think in that situation. But out on the field, it's a bit of a different situation. And I've also been known to have, er, a little too much fun from time to time. But this was way over the line- we're talking 10 people all shouting and laughing at each other while pretty much everyone else around them is either talking quietly or actually trying to listen to the concert that they paid to see. And this is NOT a rock and roll show where you expect such buffonery.

Yes, she really is a 40 foot tall amazon. Robert Plant was nearly squashed on three separate incidents.

The folks pictured below are more representative of the sorts of people who were there. It definitely had that aging hippie vibe about it... which was not lost on me as I considered that the frat boys above were probably not even conceived the last time Led Zeppelin was on stage. Hell, I was barely alive then.

*Yawn*... honey, how much longer does this go on?

Customer Service Has Gone Too Far

My phone rang a moment ago. It was American Express.

Amex: Hello, this is (redacted) calling on behalf of American Express concerning your customer service call on June 9.

Jamie: Yes? Hmmm... they called me Monday because I had forgotten to pay my bill last month. I paid them electronically the same day, they must have it by now...

Amex: I would like to assure you that this conversation is confidential and anything you say will never be released to a third party.

Jamie: Okay, fine. Why are you calling? This is weird. Do I need a lawyer?

Amex: How would you rate the quality of service you received on your recent call with American Express? Please answer using a scale of 1 to 5, where 1 is poor and 5 is excellent.

Jamie: Bursts out laughing. Wait a minute. You're surveying me about the call that you guys made to me to tell me I had missed a payment? Seriously?

Amex: Ummm, yes, that's correct.

Jamie: I'm sorry, it's nothing personal, but you have to admit this is pretty silly. The call was fine. They told me I was late paying my bill. I said I would pay it immediately. They said thank you and we both went on our merry ways. A this point, I have already spent more time on the customer service survey than I did on the original phone call.

Amex: Ah, OK, so you would say it was excellent. Is there anything else you would like to tell us about your experience?

Jamie: I really can't think of anything else I can say about it... but thanks for asking!

Amex: Thank you, have a nice day...


It appears that we have gotten to the point in society where the followup and metadata generated around any given activity consumes more resources than the activity itself.

It's bad enough that we get barraged with emails demanding we rate every single online transaction. Did your item arrive on time? Was it as described? Sure - there is some value to being able to see this kind of feedback. But it goes too far. On Amazon.com, for example, you are actually required to leave a comment in addition to filling out the survey. One-click checkout my ass... the post-purchase process is more complicated than the actual purchase!

Another example. I went to DMV about a month ago for that wonderful biannual ritual, the vehicle safety inspection. I was advised that I might enjoy completing a customer satisfaction survey while I waited for my car. For DC government vehicle inspection? Surely you jest. You really don't want me filling out that survey. Do we really need to solicit feedback on what is universally reviled as a frustrating, time-consuming process that involves baking in your car for an hour while sucking carbon monoxide from a hundred tailpipes around you? You KNOW what's wrong: It takes too damn long! Open more lanes! Re-open the West Virginia Avenue station! But apparently, we'd rather devote resources to surveys that tell us what we already know, than towards actually dealing with the problem.

Stop the madness. For the love of water buffalo, Amex, I didn't even call you in the first place, you called me. I didn't want to hear from you then, and I certainly didn't want to hear from you now. This will inevitably come to it's logical conclusion in all aspects of society:

Prison Guard, about to release inmate:

...one unused prophylactic, one soiled, one man's hair comb. One Timex digital watch, broken. Two gold-plated finger rings. One black suit jacket. One pair black suit pants.... but before you leave, we have a few questions.

How would you rate the cleanliness of your cell? Please rate from 1 to 5, where 1 is Gitmolicious and 5 is Club Fed.

Now, think about the last time you were ass-raped by a prison guard. Do you feel like they were too gentle, pleasingly rough, or raging like a silverback orangutan on steriods?

Sorry, We're Closed

In recent years Washington DC has become a far more cosmopolitan place to live than it was in the early 90's when I first moved here. I feel like it's become a true walking city (at least, if you don't mind sweating bullets in the summertime). Whereas in those days, the only real entertainment and dining destinations were Dupont Circle, Adams Morgan, and Georgetown, the whole city has become connected. U Street, Logan Circle, Chinatown, "old" Downtown (e.g. K street), Metro Center, all have thriving restaurant and night lives. And the corridors between them, as well as the outskirts, have begun to sprout nighttime businesses as well, like 14th Street south of U street, not to mention my local favorite Red Rocks on 11th and Park and Red Derby at 14th and Quincy.

This has all been all great for those of us who enjoy good food and night life. It's also great for the neighborhoods. Gentrification issues notwithstanding, the changes have resulted in large stretches of the city becoming walkable which in years past would have been devoid of businesses. This has made them more appealing as places to live and safer places to walk. I've walked from L'enfant Plaza to my home in Columbia Heights. I frequently walk to U Street, Dupont Circle, Adams Morgan, all within a mile or so of my home.

But this is not the point of my post. Last night, I was meeting a friend around U street for a drink. I was hungry and wanted to have a bite to eat. Our initial choice was Vinoteca, which is supposed to have good happy hour specials. Closed. So we went next door to Solly's. They were open, but their kitchen is closed on Mondays. Foiled again.

I then suggested The Saloon across the street, a cozy place I'd only been once before. I didn't eat that time but thought their menu looked like it was pretty good bar fare, so wanted to try it. Closed. We finally ended up at Ulah Bistro, which actually was open and serving food. Good wings there, by the way.

I realize that Mondays are the traditional day for restuarants to be closed. But in a thriving community like U Street, and in the summertime when it's light out until 9 and people love to get out of their little shoebox apartments and relax in an air conditioned bar or restaurant - or even sit outside if it's not intolerable - this tradition seems a little dated. DC has just about become a real city in the sense that many communities are becoming truly walkable and you can find about anything you need on foot.

I've never liked this Monday tradition, personally. In fact it's one of my favorite nights to eat out. Who wants to cook for themselves on the first day back at the grind after a weekend? The popular restaurants in town seem to be having no trouble getting people in their doors any night of the week, based on my anecdotal observations as a frequent diner, so I would think there's money to be made -- especially in summertime. So what is it? Maybe they can't get the help, maybe the owner just has to be there every day and needs a night off, or maybe I'm just wrong about how many people really want to eat out on a Monday.

Ulah seemed to be doing a decent business last night around 7 PM when I was in there; the bar was more than half full and most of the tables were occupied on the first floor. Maybe that's because they're the only place serving food in a two block radius.

Signs of the Apocalypse #284: Scootergate

Once again I present you with a dreadfully composed picture, courtesy of Lucky Goldstar (that is, my LG cell phone). I was devastated to find myself without my camera at the Red Derby last night when they happened to be hosting a scooter rally. There is little that I find more entertaining than accidentally stumbling into one of DC's many bizarre subcultures. Ironically, though, most of the scooters had Maryland plates, but we'll overlook that for now.

Once again, Google to the rescue. This weekend is Scootergate 2008, the preeminent scooterer? gathering in the United States. Think Hell's Angels, except with 150cc engines and 12 inch wheels. I had the fantastic good fortune to surreptitiously attend the pre-rally warm-up, which featured a viewing of Quadrophenia at the Derby, complete with audio! That was a rare treat. I remain a bit confounded about the relationship between the classic rock opera and scooterists. Those are motorcycles in that movie, kids. Oh wait, the tricked out Vespas... okay, it's been a while and I wasn't paying attention last night. Something about scooter sacrifice. Anyway...

Tonight the official rally begins, and damn it if the scootererers won't be taking over H street. You can get the details from the link above, but suffice it to say that the Rock and Roll Hotel is the place to be... if you can get in! The website strongly encourages pre-registration for the show.

But the real fun should be on the mall after 2 AM where the "monument ride" will take place. I am not joking, if I am still awake and cabable of getting my ass to the mall, I will be there. What could be better than witnessing dozens of scooterererers of varying degrees of intoxication driving through the World War II memorial? Or seeing if a scooter still works under 12" of water in the reflecting pool? Doing donuts in front of the Lincoln Memorial? This should be awesome.

Well, that's it for now, but I hope to see everyone at Scootergate '08. Scooterists: I am not making fun of you. Really. Okay, I am, but it's nothing personal because I make fun of everyone, and I'm laughing with you, and not at you. I really do love this kind of stuff. So please don't get angry and leave little 1" wide treadmarks on the hood of my car.

Artcar Sighting

Saw this beauty on 11th Street walking home one night last week, and all I could think was, "now there's something you don't see every day."

The picture's awful, unfortunately -- I snapped it quickly and didn't want to stick around too long for fear that the trapped souls trying to escape from the car would come after me. But if you look at the large version of the pic on Flickr, you can make out the phone number. So naturally, I googled it. I mean seriously, who has time to make phone calls these days?

I quickly found this post in a Yahoo group about "Artcars." Well, that makes sense. I've never heard of an "artcar" before but if I had to name this creature, that might have come up. Right after "Ghostbustermobile" and "Hell on Wheels." But being a ruthlessly persistent Google bloodhound, I branched from there and googled the poster's name. His home page was easily found, with lots of links and blogs. I went on to search for general information about Artcars. There are bunches of web sites easily found. The pictures of these things are out of control. If I ever found myself driving down I-95 next to an Artcar procession, I'd probably assume that I was no longer on the planet earth, or had eaten an especially funky Arby's sandwich.

The owner appears to be from Baltimore; maybe he's in town for Artomatic. Or maybe he just felt like taking the ol' gooniemobile to DC for a spin on a nice day.

Artomatic, by the way, is phenomenal -- I've been once and barely scratched the surface, I'm hoping to go back once or twice more before it closes on the 15th. If you haven't been, go, now.

That's Just Wrong

"Spring," Home Improvement and Tomatoes

There is one good thing to be said about this "Spring" we are having. I use quotation marks in only the most necessary way since "Spring" usually implies warm days, the smell of fresh flowers, and neighbors on their front porches. I don't know what the weather is like in northern Ireland right now, but I expect it is much the same. The normal high for May 20 is 77 degrees, and the normal low 57. We're looking at about 10 degrees below that today. Global warming, why do you taunt me so!!

So back to that one good thing. While it's been bad for running, when the weather blows, there's not much temptation to get out of the house. This means I may actually start to make some headway on my nearly endless list of home improvement projects. On the short list for the next week are a lot of projects that in and of themselves aren't urgent, but will make my life a lot easier as I move forward.

These projects are mostly organizational and storage related. My house, unfortunately, has been blessed with three closets, one of which is a tiny hallway closet. That's right - one of my three bedrooms doesn't even have a closet. So storage space is at a premium. Luckily, I have an attic of sorts, which is useful for storage, as well as a full basement, which is useful for storing tools and stuff that hasn't yet made it to the attic. Right now, though, I'm making horrible use of my space, and the basement is almost impassable, which makes major home improvement projects challenging since I can't find any tools and even if I could find them, I usually destroy something or hurt myself in the process.

So, over the next week I've got the following:

• Put in an attic ladder to improve access to my crawl space (currently, accessible only through a little hole in the top of one of my two closets). Acquired at Home Depot yesterday.
  
• Tear down remaining useless partition walls in the basement.
  
• Move workbench along north wall of the basement, near the back basement entrance, which will make working with long lumber a lot easier (since it can then stick out the back door). And free up the existing space for a future pool table.
  
• Move anything deserving of long term storage to the attic.
  
• Organize mountains of tools and miscellaneous junk. My basement in many ways resembles a typical Home Depot aisle. I probably have more stuff than they do, but I can't find anything.
  

With any luck, all that will be accomplished by the weekend. (Yes, optimistic, but the weather is crappy). Then, on Saturday, I've got help coming to replace the windows in my kitchen, which can't be done alone. Once that's done I can actually move forward with the rest of the finish work in there, most of which is drywall, tiling, painting, and so on. And I may actually be able to close the renovation book on the very first room in my house a year after I moved in. Hey, I'm not in a hurry... and it IS the kitchen...

Well, time to go to work. But what about the tomatoes, you ask? Believe it or not, the timeline for my attic storage ladder was driven somewhat by tomatoes. I bought a bunch of heirloom tomato seedlings when I went to Gettysburg a week ago to pick up one of the final rounds of my posessions still stored there. I had planned to just pot them in my backyard, but as it turns out, I have almost complete tree cover. No sunlight, no juicy delicious tomatoes. Pretty remarkable given that it's about 75 feet deep. So, by far the next best place to grow them is on my roof. But it's way too much of a pain in the neck to get up there right now with the closet access.

So, this attic ladder should make access easy enough that I can actually go up there every day to water them. I'm even thinking of putting in some permanent plumbing up to the roof for this purpose. I've already got the walls open behind the bathroom so that would really be a pretty minor chore.

My goal for the end of the summer: kitchen complete, basement clean & housing a pool table, and dozens upon dozens of tomatoes to be eaten, gifted or turned into sauce.

Starvin' Marvin

I need to trust my gut more about places like this. I should have known better.

I've been to Marvin twice now. Once was a Sunday afternoon after brunch, because it was a nice day. The other time was last Tuesday meeting a friend for a drink, also because it was a nice day. In both cases we were lured by the prospect of the outdoor rooftop deck. It seemed an alternative to Local 16, which is about the trashiest pick-up joint in DC and not high on my list despite their large deck.

After my first drink last Tuesday, I remembered the problem I'd had from the first visit. The drinks. They are absurdly expensive -- and weak. I ordered a rail gin and soda. This is a drink which Wonderland sells for 2 bucks at happy hour. Marvin? $7.

Seven bucks for a rail drink is pretty outrageous. At least it seems that way, until you decide to switch to a top shelf drink, hoping they might actually put some alcohol in it if you pay the premium.

Another eleven dollars later, I had a Bombay Sapphire and Soda in my hand. Unfortunately, it too contained a virtually undedectable amount of gin. I didn't have my CSI kit on hand to test conclusively for the presence of alcohol, but I can say from experience, if there was any to be found, it was only trace amounts. Suddenly, the 7 bucks for a glass of soda water with essence of juniper seemed like a pretty good deal.

I don't think it's a lot to ask that when you pay 11 bucks for a drink, it have at minimum a standard pour. I then remembered how things had gone down on my first visit here on a Sunday afternoon.

I'd had had three gin & sodas that day before I noticed that I was experiencing none of the effects normally associated with such consumption. So I commented to the bartender about this, and asked if it might be possible to get more than a splash of liquor for my 11 bucks. The bartender without missing a beat said, "So, you want a double?"

Umm, no. I don't want to pay $22 for a double. Let's do some simple math here:

$11 for approx. zero ounces of gin
x 2 (double)
----------
$22 for approx. zero ounces of gin
=
Bad Deal

So, three drinks in, I left entirely sober and vowed never to return to a place that charges more than Palena for a mixed drink, yet doesn't see fit to actually provide any alcohol. Sorry, Marvin. Your trendy, yet oddly cruddy atmosphere is not worth paying strip club drink prices for.

I wonder if I'm missing the point. Maybe this is all a cover-your-ass scenario. Marvin is basically a higher-priced (yet equally skanky/hip) version of Local 16. There are probably lots of under-age college kids in there at any given moment. If they ever got busted for serving minors, they could simply argue that they hadn't actually served anyone any alcohol.

n.b. I discussed this situation with my friend Sara, who immediately confirmed from her own experience that Marvin short pours. She said you just can't get hard liquor there - always order beer, since they can't water it down or short pour. OK, fair enough. The beer's pretty damn expensive too, but at least you know what you're getting. But I still feel that on principle, why should I patronize someplace that is going out of their way to rip me off? Why should I try so hard to find a way NOT to get screwed at a bar run by cheapskates? Far easier to take my business to one of the many places in DC that actually isn't trying to screw their customers.

---

Update ... made the blog log on 5/20. I know, it's silly, but I love this shit.

Cab Hater No More?

Took a cab from U street to home on Wednesday night. My first meter cab ever. What a glorious sight to behold.

We asked the cabbie how the meter thing was going from a financial perspective. He said the fares were lower, no question. But he wasn't bitter or resentful or anything - actually, he more or less reiterated the position I've had all along. He thought more people would take cabs for short trips because of the new fare structure and expected things would work out in the end.

The fare for two riders from U Street to my home at 11th & Otis was $7.50. That includes the extra rider fee and gas surcharge. This is the minimum amount that you would have been charged under the old structure with one rider -- in-zone base fare is $6.50 plus the $1.00 gas surcharge.

I gave him 10 bucks. Possibly the best cab ride I've ever had in DC. I am cautiously going to consider not being a cab hater anymore. If all the cabbies would just embrace the meters as much as this guy we'd all be better off. And I will actually start taking cabs sometimes.

Bike to Work Day Tomorrow

Tomorrow is Bike to Work Day according to WABA, the Washington Area Bicyclist Association. Despite my historically suspicious relationship with WABA, I think I'm going to do it unless we are in the middle of another monsoon, the likes of which seem to soak us about two or three times a week this spring. My backyard, incidentally, resembles something between the field at RFK Stadium after a truck and tractor pull, and a pig sty. I nearly had to tow my car out of the sludge on Monday.

Back to the biking. With gas topping $4 per gallon, and the warranty several years since expired on my car, I had been thinking it's pretty lame (and expensive) to be driving to work every day. And seeing as I work for an environmental consulting firm - that is, my job is actually to get people to burn fewer fossil fuels, among other things - it's downright hypocritical. Oh, did I mention that I live three blocks from the metro, and my office (three stops away) is also three blocks from the metro?

The problem is, I like driving. My awesome commute is exactly five miles, from Columbia Heights to Silver Spring. It's a reverse commute, so traffic is never too bad. Most of the drive is on 16th Street, which I can say, without hyperbole, is the closest thing to the Autobahn in the United States of America. I am pretty sure I've made it in less than 10 minutes before. While racing cars on the way to work at 75 mph, before my first cup of coffee, with a hangover, probably isn't the smartest thing to do, it sure is a good way to get the adrenaline flowing.

Umm... did I really say that? Yeah, just kidding... so.... anyway, back to the biking again. I have a great bike that I bought while I was living in Gettysburg a couple years ago (see early entries in this blog for some reminiscing of that). I have hardly used it since being back in DC, despite the fact that it's a perfect city bike. It's a Specialized Tricross, which is a so-called "cyclocross" bicycle. This is a sport in which I am sure I will never participate, but the upshot of the design is that it's basically a road bike but with bigger and stronger forks that can accommodate wider tires than a typical road bike. And put up with a good deal more abuse, which means I don't need to worry about busting a wheel on one of DC's 9,333,452 potholes. But it weighs hardly more than a good road bike, so it's not like riding a mountain bike around paved roads, which feels like riding through jello compared to being on a road bike.

Finally, I'm going to run a marathon in the fall. To this end I'll probably be running at least 5 times a week. Seems awfully stupid to drive 5 miles to work and back, and then run around for 5 miles. I should just be running to work and metroing home, or biking one way and running the other. I haven't figured out the logistics, but I'm sure there's some sensible way to end up with the bike at the right end of my commute on the days I run one way or the other.

So where was I? Oh yeah, biking to work. I figure this is as good a time as any to get on this program. I personally find WABA to be a rather pompous, narrow-minded organization based on debates I have had in the past over road use in DC. And the average DC bicyclist obeys about as many laws of the road as a Cannonball Run participant. I've nearly been in more accidents with cyclists running stop signs and red lights than I can count. And I have always enjoyed the third-finger salute I've received from those spandex-wearing, shaved-legged snobs when calling them out on it with their own "Share the Road" refrain. So I do this not out of solidarity for DC's cyclist culture, which I think does itself a horrible disservice by being both self-righteous and above the law. But I do it because it's downright practical.

Let's hope it sticks. I'll be the one on 14th Street cursing at you for cutting me off tomorrow morning.

Track @ Roosevelt High School: You Don't Suck

I decided to post again today because I became vaguely aware that my last several posts have been of the extraordinarily cynical, ranting sort. Not that I don't enjoy relentlessly mocking those who deserve it, but actually there are things going on around my neighborhood and in DC that deserve being noted in a positive light. The balance must be restored; yin and yang cannot compete for space in a world they share equally. And besides, despite the excessive rain the last couple days, I've been having a great (if busy) week or so, and the tone of my posts has not reflected that. Therefore I wanted to share a couple pictures of the track at Roosevelt High School, at roughly Georgia Avenue NW and Upshur Street NW.

Roosevelt is only about a half-mile from my house, and I frequently jog a route that takes me right by it's front doors on 13th Street. Somehow, I had never noticed this glorious new track, with the paint barely dry on the "Rough Riders" logo at the end of the field.

I was there this morning at the ungodly hour of 7 AM to join my newly discovered Petworth running group. I've mostly been an evening runner lately, but history has taught me that I'm far more likely to stay honest when someone else is waiting for me. I'm planning to run another marathon this fall, so I am happy to have found them, even if they're typically on the morning schedule. Probably do me some good to learn to be in bed before 2 AM on any given weeknight... but anyhoo, this is where we met this morning to do some speed workouts.

The track is spectacular, as you can see from the photos. And despite the fact that it's been raining more than a typical New Orleans hurricane over the weekend, it was free from puddles or wet spots. Finally, there is something in DC that my taxes were spent on that actually makes me proud, and I can even personally get some use out of.

I'm guessing that the average Roosevelt graduate is probably about as prepared for the workforce in DC as an Aleutian eskimo dogsled driver*. But really, getting the facilities in order is a start, and is hopefully a sign of a new direction for the schools. This is a good thing beyond just being useful to my running group. Here's hoping they are maintained as time goes on and that the trend continues.

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*You didn't think I'd let an entire post go without any cynical comments, did you? And actually, I think Roosevelt is among the better high schools in DC, from my quick survey of WaPo's "Fixing DC's Schools" report. Hell, with only 25% of students testing below basic reading skills, it's practically a magnet school in DC! Seriously - there are far worse. But that's a topic for another post.

Radiohead @ Nissan: You Both Suck

The weather on Sunday was anything but good. Actually, that's being generous. It was a monsoon. But that didn't stop scads of adoring Radiohead fans from making the trek to the Nissan Pavilion in Bristow, Virginia on Sunday.

I swore years ago that I would never return to Nissan Pavilion. I can say, without hyperbole, that it's the worst venue in the entire country. I have never been anywhere that created an overall less pleasant experience. Just about everything is wrong:

• It's at least 40 miles from downtown DC.
  
• There is absolutely no chance of getting there by public transportation.
  
• It involves driving on I-66, usually during rush hour, which ranks slightly above being waterboarded, and slightly below watching C-SPAN, in my list of least favorite forms of torture
  
• The last several miles into the venue are on tiny, local roads which inevitably are a mess.
  
• It has never taken me less than 2 hours to get out of the parking lot after a show, because of the previous point and awful traffic management.
  
• The sound sucks
  
• Security are assholes
  

Basically, there's nothing good about it. I would rather see a show at the Tweeter Center in Camden, New Jersey. Actually, overall driving time is probably less, and it's a much nicer venue, with a great view of Philadelphia. Once you get over the fact that the only businesses in Camden are bail-bonds shops and you will be parked outside a maximum security prison, it's a far better experience than Nissan.

So, Radiohead has in recent times begun using their awesome uber-star power to do whatever the fuck they want. The first we saw of this was giving away their last album, Rainbows, for free or whatever you felt like paying for it. I thought this was pretty cool, actually, because I despise the old guard music industry and their desperate tactics to extort money from the very people who are their best customers. So when Radiohead made a gazillion dollars without even printing a single CD, I was impressed.

This time, they claim to be touring in some kind of eco-friendly fashion. On their web site Radiohead attempts to martyr themselves before their fans by claiming to have selected the venues based on a list of practical criteria that would result in the least carbon impact from their tour.


Richard, the Tour Production Manager says on May 1: The main issue is how the audience moves to and from the show. With the location and public transport links now a more significant factor when choosing venues, fans are being encouraged to think about alternative ways of travelling.

Take a look at the map to your left. This shows the relative locations of Washington DC, Baltimore, and the Nissan Pavilion. In Washington, DC are two perfectly acceptable venues for concerts - RFK Stadium and the MCI Center. MCI center has a capacity similar to Nissan Pavilion, and RFK Stadium can hold much more. Given Radiohead's ridiculous popularity, you'd think RFK would have been a perfect choice. Please note also the relative proximity of Baltimore, which you actually CAN get to by train.

Oh wait - but Live Nation is promoting the Radiohead tour, and of the three, Nissan Pavilion happens to be the only venue that is run by Live Nation!! Oh, crap. It looks like they left one thing off their list of "selection criteria" for identifying the venue that would result in the least environmental impact: Must be run by Live Nation.

But back to the actual disaster, er, show on Sunday. As it happened, it rained. A lot. Now that's hardly their fault, but it underscores just how crappy Nissan Pavilion is. From all over the blogosphere we see reports of wretched experiences:

mistiwalters (dcist): After thousands of cars waited in traffic for four hours, they were turned away because the concert was over by the time they got there. How's that for a carbon footprint?

IMGoph (dcist): 6-hour burger king run. that's what the trip to nissan turned into for me, my roommate, and his girlfriend.

pellucidity (dcist): We spent 3 hours in traffic... Arrived in Bristow at 7:30 and were turned away by the police at about 10:30... I'm not going back to Bristow.

headhot (consumerist): Because of the absolute clusterfuck that is Nissan Pavilion, we almost never go. If it were not Radiohead, and the fact that there were no other shows scheduled in 300 miles, we would have never considered going. After this mess, I don't think there is any band that could get us out there under any condition. Fuck the Pavilion.

Bottom line: Nissan Pavilion, you suck. Radiohead, you suck. And you're full of shit. If you gave even one tiny llama turd about environmental impact, you would never have scheduled a show at a venue 40 miles away from downtown DC, nowhere near public transportation of any kind, and also well known to take hours to exit the parking lot post-show (think: thousands of idling cars). See: here (dcist, pre-show), here (wapo - 4/15/05), here (random forum post from 2007). Finding gripes about Nissan Pavilion is about as hard as finding a lobbyist on Capitol Hill.

And, the ultimate insult, as Radiohead whines, "please carpool!!": There's a $6.00 parking fee charged on every ticket! Thanks a lot, assholes. We carpool, but we pay to park anyway.

I didn't go. I never even gave it a thought, even though I really like Radiohead's music and have wanted to see them for years. I feel bad for those who wasted their entire crappy Sunday in a car in the sticks in Virginia, but you should have known better. And Radiohead, you should have too.

Unraveling the Mind of "Forest Hills Frank"

Today is a sad day. Comet Ping Pong, the only interesting thing ever to happen in the Forest Hills neighborhood, has had to move the sidewalk ping-pong table inside. For those of you have never heard of Forest Hills or Comet Ping Pong, well, that should tell you something off the bat.

The neighborhood in question lies somewhere north of Van Ness and south of Chevy Chase. It's a sleepy little place, with high-rise apartment buildings and retirement castles. In walking distance of Comet Ping Pong is... just about nothing. There is one nice restaurant, Buck's Fishing and Camping. Other than that you've got a shady Chinese place, a CVS, a couple gas stations, and Politics and Prose. It's not exactly a thriving business center. In fact the only reason I know anything about it is that I lived there, across the street, for about 9 months.

Last July, we learned that ANC Commissioner Frank Winstead had gotten wise. Comet, in their efforts to attract business and create something interesting, had been setting up a ping pong table on the sidewalk. In the shocking Youtube video that Frank concocted, we can see people actually having fun playing ping-pong outside on a previously useless stretch of Connecticut Avenue.

Well, nobody gave a crap about any of this, and people continued to have fun. Except Frank, that is. Comet's owner James Alefantis recently went to the ANC before applying for a sidewalk cafe permit. Frank, gleefully using every shred of petty power available to him to make others' lives less fun, played the ping pong paddle for all it was worth. In the end, James apparently agreed to get rid of the outdoor table if the ANC would support his sidewalk cafe application. Luckily, the vote did pass, but that backstabbing, buzzkilling Frankie boy still voted against it despite James aquiescing to his power trip.

Now you're up to date. So I said to myself, "Self, what makes someone turn into such a hater?" Why would anyone put so much time and energy into preventing people from having a good time, and working against the success of legitimate, positive, neighborhood businesses? Who is this shell of a human, this grinch, this Debbie Downer?

Well. A little google stalking reveals an interesting psychological profile.

Let's start with his Flickr photostream. The first thing is to note his profile - he's single. The next thing to note is the large number of pictures of Councilmember Mary Cheh, who he has caught like the cat in the goldfish bowl having her car parked with wheels not turned to the curb! But it doesn't stop there. He's got pictures of her at the farmer's market, and even just crossing the street! Obviously, Frank has a secret crush on Ms. Cheh. One can only imagine how many pictures he's taken while stalking her that did NOT end up on Flickr, but rather in enlarged color printouts on his nightstand.

Next, we find his Youtube video collection. Scary stuff here. A few more holes about the personality get filled. First we learn that he is a HAM radio operator - license number KB30SC, one of less than 100 in DC! Now I've been around for a while, but even when I was a teenager, HAM radio was beyond geeky. Those guys made us computer nerds look cool. And then one day there were cell phones and the only remotely cool aspect of "HAM radioing" became immediately irrelevant. His occupation is "Unix Computerist." Now I am a computer programmer myself. I've been in the industry my entire adult life. I can honestly say I don't know what a "computerist" is, but I suspect it's someone who is attached to ancient technology and dead programming languages like FORTRAN and COBOL.

He also has dozens of "Amateur Radio Exam Prep" videos. I was hoping they would be of him so I could actually see an image of "Forest Hills Frank", but alas, they are beyond lame. I watched a couple, and they are all incredibly boring: a video made of nothing more than a bunch of black and white text flashcards. I've seen more interesting powerpoint presentations.

But let's move on. Forest Hills Frank has a Facebook page! I thought I'd hit the jackpot on this one, but sadly, we learn nothing more except that he's not gay. It says "Sex: Male, Interested in: Women, Relationship Status: Single". Oh, and zero facebook friends.

So what we have here is a geeky, lonely, obsessive guy who stalks DC Council members and UPS truck drivers. Friendless, reclusive, with too much time on his hands, he endlessly scrutinizes the DC legal code looking for obscure laws with which to hassle Mary Cheh and neighborhood businesses. And making boring amateur radio training exam videos.

Ladies and gentlemen, the answer is obvious. This man needs to get laid.

Local Update - Mostly Booze Related

I'm still here. Until yesterday, the weather has been perfect, I've been busy at work, and five out-of-town family members (three of them in the under 3 feet category) have been at my house. I took some pictures over the weekend but forgot to upload them so that will have to wait for later.

In the meantime, I will use this space to announce some very important happenings in Columbia Heights.

The Red Derby has started serving brunch, including $2 mimosas and $2 bloody marys. This is a fine complement to Red Rocks' brunch and $9 bottomless mimosa, which I must confess to having enjoyed the hell out of on many occasions.

Target has applied for a license to sell beer and wine! Things just keep getting better around here. I wonder if the awful line situation at Giant will improve as they feel pressure from Target. I, for one, will be going to Target instead of Giant for incidentals, and hopefully soon, for booze.

The Looking Glass Lounge has officially opened their new back patio. Well, I'm not sure it was ever closed, but it's gotten a major makeover compared to the Temperance Hall incarnation. New picnic tables, new fence, and as we would expect from Matt and Rose, lots of cool memorabilia on the walls. I was there for a while on Saturday at the official inauguration party. The space is nice, definitely go by this summer.

That's about it for now. I have some stuff from the weekend to write about later, and I may even have a home improvement post coming sometime soon!

Racial Tension in Columbia Heights

I was about to drop in to Red Rocks on my way home around 10 PM last night, when a frantic looking Hispanic man approached me and stammered something about the police. I couldn't understand what he was saying at first, but quickly realized that they had been attacked and didn't have a phone to call for help. I called 911 as he motioned that I follow him down the street. Another guy had been standing outside Red Rocks when he approached and we both went with him down 11th Street towards Monroe.

The man was with another younger guy who hadn't spoken and was holding his head, but looked like he was pretty dazed. Halfway down the block there is an alley that goes to an open lot behind 11th between Park and Monroe, and a third Hispanic guy was standing in the alley entrance, clearly having also been attacked. At this point I was still on the phone with 911, after having given them the address about six times. (For some reason, "11th Street Northwest between Park and Monroe" was baffling to the operator.)

A cop was there about two minutes later. An ambulance did not arrive for at least 15 minutes. In that time, what ensued was my first personal experience of how racial tensions exist on the street in my neighborhood.

The cop was black. The three victims were Hispanic. The first guy, who had originally asked me for help, spoke pretty good English. The other two guys who had been beaten up did not speak English. They were all clearly at various levels of drunkenness. I explained to the cop what had happened: they had been hanging out in the empty lot (presumably drinking) and had been attacked and robbed by five or six black guys. Did I see them? No, I wasn't there. Who called the police? I did. How long ago did this happen? About 5 minutes. Did anyone see the perps? I indicated that victim #1 had seen them.

The cop asked him to describe them. (Below is of course paraphrased, since I didn't take notes on the conversation, but this is basically how it went).

Vic: Why should I tell you? You're not going to do anything.
Cop (talking to me, not victim): I can't do anything if he won't talk to me.
Vic (to me): He doesn't give a crap about us.
Me (to Vic): You gotta tell him what they look like.
Vic: I know these guys. I know them.
Cop: Do you know where they live? Do you know who they are?
Vic: I know them. I don't know where they live, but I know them.
Cop (now holding a sketch pad): Just tell me what they look like. I can go after them.
Vic: You won't do anything anyway, why should I tell you?
Cop (to me): It's too late now. They'll be long gone.

The first cop had called in after he arrived and asked for a bilingual backup. Another cop eventually arrived, but did not speak Spanish. He said they were having trouble finding a bilingual officer. The other guy I had come from Red Rocks with went back there and grabbed a friend from there who spoke Spanish, but at that point it really didn't matter.

The subtext to this exchange was that there is massive mistrust of the police by the Hispanic community, and there is a lack of respect for the Hispanics by the police. The cop wasn't being a jerk or anything, but I basically felt like neither the victim nor the cop were interested in talking to each other. They were talking through me. The vic did not trust the cop. The cop did not take the vic especially seriously. Sure, he was drunk, but clearly he was also freaked out. His friends were bloody and beaten up pretty well, it was not a joke.

The Mt. Pleasant riot, sparked by an altercation between a black rookie cop and a Salvadorean man, was 17 years ago next month. It is pretty obvious that those wounds are far from healed in this town. When I think of racial tension, I usually think of tension between upper-class white gentrifiers and the lower-middle class long-time residents in Columbia Heights, largely African American families but also Hispanic immigrants. I've always thought of that tension as driven just as much buy socioeconomic status as by race. But this conflict - working class Hispanic guys mugged by black guys, black cop responding, white guy translating, is completely different yet just as much a part of the challenges that our community is facing. I don't know what the answer is but the situation has apparently changed very little in 17 years.