Don with the Duchess & Duke
Public Service Announcement: The antics depicted in today’s blog post are not supported by the author of Carmageddon. Carmageddon claims no responsibility for the behaviors of those 2 imbeciles depicted in the post. Please do not try these behaviors at home as these acts can only be performed by professional drunkards in a controlled environment. Do not attempt these behaviors unless under the direct supervision of your children. That is all.
Image from Wikipedia
Thirty some-odd years ago when we moved to Virginia we lived in Alexandria. It became the locus of our activities and we often visited the Old Town area to stroll the streets shopping, dining and partaking of the many pleasures it offers. The oldest area of the city is picturesquely located along the Potomac River and was originally laid out in 1749. Once we left Alexandria for points west our visits became less and less frequent. In fact, we hadn’t been to Old Town for 20 years.
The reason we haven’t been to Old Town Alexandria in 20 years.
Our last visit occurred during my tenure at Georgetown University while pursuing my graduate degree. It was semester’s end and a group of us from the Nurse-Midwifery program decided to celebrate by hoisting a few pints at the legendary Murphy’s Irish Pub. Several hours later a carload of drunken nurses were being driven home by the sober designated driver, Don Russo. Since he was receiving directions from one of the said nurses his driving was somewhat erratic as the nurse’s vision was impaired by the state of her inebriation. “No, turn here.” “Left?” “Right.” (“Correct” would have been the better terminology.) Soon Don was being pulled over by one of Alexandria’s Finest who upon assessing the situation and seeing Don’s pained expression provided an escort to the apartment building we had been seeking.
The return to Old Town was sparked by us attending a delightful dinner theater experience provided by the troupe of Medieval Madness. Located inside John Strongbow’s Tavern the Great Hall provides an authentic medieval style meal (read: no knives or forks) and only authentic wines & beers (the breweries and vineyards must be operational since medieval times). The Troupe presented a show in the style of a series of Monty Python type sketches based on a quest for the Holy Grail to bring the philandering Duke and Duchess out of debt. Yours truly, came out of retirement and joined the cast in the final sketch. I’m sure you’ll be reading the reviews this morning about my stellar 4 line performance. The Duke was gracious enough to provide us with a bottle of champagne in honor of our 38th wedding anniversary which we consumed along with the 2 tankards of ale that were served with our meal.
Warming up before my return to the stage.
The tavern wenches regaled us with bawdy authentic songs between scenes in addition to their serving duties which included fetching more ale when you requested it via a specific sing-song. The seating is tables of six and the food is served family-style. One table member is assigned to be the keeper of the salt (a precious commodity in medieval times) and has total discretion over provisions which you must request via 2 good reasons for needing the salt. Needless to say, this arrangement fosters camaraderie among the audience members.
The final bows for the Medieval Madness cast.
Another cool thing about John Strongbow’s Tavern & Restaurant is that it was founded by 3 Veterans who wanted to create a venue where the performing arts served and supported the community. They provide numerous fundraiser projects for Veterans: individuals and organizations while sharing their love of history, the performing arts and the culinary arts. The “second act” was a free concert down in the tavern by The Young Dubliners. This Irish Rock band’s sound evoked memories of my son, Eric’s, beloved Dropkick Murphys. Before the concert started we decided to get some air and strolled around the streets which were crowded with night life revelers.
Haunting the streets of Old Town.
By now the drinks we had at my son Eric’s house prior to the performance, the bottle of champagne and the 2 tankards of ale were definitely having their mood-enhancing effect. We again entered the tavern after our stroll and joined a table with one of the lovely young couples we sat with during the show. It would be rude and an unreal expectation to attend an Irish rock concert and not have a few more drinks, right? We were driven into Old Town by my son and were being picked up by his girlfriend, the lovely Natalie, who was working the Capital’s game so no need not to continue imbibing, right?
A few more drinks in John Strongbow’s Tavern.
Natalie’s timely arrival and retrieval of our somewhat inebriated asses resulted in our return to her house. Eric was hosting a rousing session of Game of Thrones Risk with his adorable (and also drunk) friends who insisted on toasting our anniversary and arrival with, . . . more drinks.
While the boys played on more drinking ensued and at some point later in the night it seemed like a good idea to head off to Yechon All Night Korean barbecue! Eric’s one non-drinking roommate, Kevin, provided the ride to Annandale for 8 in his huge vehicle. We arrive at Yechon and even though we are the only Caucasians in the surprisingly busy place, my son and his friends are treated like arriving royalty and ushered to “their” table. We occupy a private dining area in the back and immediately the table is covered in small dishes full of Korean appetizers and condiments. Eric and Kevin order for the group and then a bottle of what I was told is the Korean version of cold sake arrives. More drinking and an amazing aray of Korean delicacies are consumed. It seems my son and his friends are “regulars” with 2:00 a.m. being their usual arrival time.
Nothing like all night Korean barbecue.
Tearing it up at Yechon
Now that we are drunker and full of spicy-ass Korean food we thank our servers and pile back into the car for an extremely boisterous, hilarious (to us) ride back to Eric & Natalie’s.
Say goodnight Yechon.
Very loud, boisterous, drunken car ride home.
Upon our arrival, I have reached my pary-like-a-rock-star limit and proceed to the couch where I spend what’s left of the night in a state somewhere between comatose and slumber. I understand that a few more shots were consumed in my absence. At 8:00 a.m. Kevin (the non-drinker) is up leaving for work and another roommate is up to walk the dog. For some ungodly reason there is sun streaming through the window which seems to be able to penetrate not just my eyelids but deep into the recesses of my brain. My brain seems to think we are still partying because there is a loud, pounding drumming going on inside my head. My stomach is none too thrilled with me either after my meat-eating, kimchee slurping, beer, wine, hard cider, fireball, champagne and Korean sake debauchery. I force my eyelids apart and spy Don, sitting upright in the recliner with a look on his face somewhere between death and dismemberment. We congratulate each other on surviving and realize that we aren’t as good as we once were but are as good once as we ever were.
Note to self: For the love of God stop partying with 25 year olds!
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