Gridskipper

The gayborhood is moving eastward, my pretties — beyond the nether regions of U Street and into the heterosexist paradigm formerly known as Shaw. To keep the neighbors at bay, Washington's twinkletoes are… butching it up with the greatest sports bar ever invented. A wall of panel TVs blares out the best of athletics all the time: and not just swimming and diving and badminton but also hockey and baseball and football. Add in the homey atmosphere, a cool roof deck, and a delicious menu of unhealthy food and it's fairly easy to spend the whole day/night lusting after the team. [link]

The capital's most under-appreciated drinking spot attracts upstanding homosexual citizens and a bunch of heterosexuals who find relief in this clean, quiet, well-managed and attitude-free bar. The guys range from… the nice, normal kind your mom wants you to marry to the older and wiser bear who wants little more than a cuddle and a good conversation. Also, Larry's takes liquor seriously: drinks tend to be classic and heady. [link]

DC's first smoke-free bar was hot stuff until the rest of the city quit smoking too. Now it's just another minimalist lounge that refers to itself as a "space" that's filled with plastic chairs, plastic art, and… plastic people. Once applauded for its diversity, Halo now abides by the Washington tradition of self-segregation: whitey flirts upstairs while the bruthas take down-low far too literally by sticking to the ground floor. The $15 drinks (blueberry mojitos!) are fruitier-than-thou and totally not worth it once you discover that actually, condescension is free. [link]

Hmmm, what rhymes with twink? Pink, drink, wink, fink, stink, shrink. That pretty much sums up a night at this existential playground for the young, gay, and uninitiated. The interior design is a rip-off from Halo,… except the kids are having a lot more fun on the couches and all the bartenders pretend to be nice. The long bar is prone to congestion by fag hags, but once you get up there you'll be happy with the quality drinks. That innocent guy sitting next to you? Tastes like chicken. [link]

Leave it to boring old Crystal City to come up with the craziest gay bar in the Commonwealth of Virginia. The purple walls and spastic drag queens are just for show — it's the freaks who party at Freddie's… that make it such a blast. Punchy margaritas promise a happy hangover, and the karaoke, bingo, and brunch are all a hoot. Leave all your pretensions and insecurities at the door — Freddie's adheres to the 1890s definition of "gay" and welcomes everyone and their sister. [link]

Dupont's failsafe gay bar is actually called "30 degrees," but "Cobalt" sounds so much gayer. The smooth, shirtless bartenders are admittedly hot though attitudinal as they flex for tips while putting too much ice… in your drink. On the plus side, Cobalt rules supreme when it comes to male coupling. Indeed, a Cobalt trick is like the toaster oven of one-night stands — anybody who shows up gets one. Muscle jocks and their tight-T-shirted sidekicks dominate, which is how Cobalt can sponsor a "best package" contest every week. [link]

Have you ever wanted an ex-convict to paint a Jackson Pollack on your back with melted candle wax? Or dreamt of getting felt up by some grizzly, 60 year-old biker with a handlebar mustache? Me neither, but in case… you did, the Eagle is the place for you! Celebrating all that is leather and manly, the Eagle is DC's darkest gay bar, both literally and figuratively. To avoid getting gang-raped, come in boots and move in the shadows. Just kidding (lol!)—these leather daddies are a bunch of old softies. I mean, how can you not love a bar that gives you a locker for your gear? [link]

Dupont Italian Kitchen spells D.I.K, which just might be a pun — dunno. Downstairs you'll find the best Midwestern-style Italian food on the block. Upstairs, a bunch of Midwesterners queening it up big time.… Regular Toms, Harry's and Dicks come to D.I.K to find dick, but also to compete in the nelliest karoake competition this side of the Sound of Music. [link]

Like JFK's eternal flame in Arlington Cemetery, the fire at The Fireplace will never go out. The last of the original west side P Street dive bars cannot die as long as black guys wanna get it on with each other.… Yes, it's a little trashy and weird inside, but the drinks are drinks and the men are men. That's saying a lot in this town, so if you enjoy alcohol or the company of gay alcoholics, then your quest has come to an end. [link]

The Green Lantern is exactly why the Christian Coalition hates us so much: hundreds of disgusting, hairy, tattooed men chugging beer mingled with armpit sweat while gawking at bad budget porn and rubbing their crotches.… Could any bar be more filthy or more animalistic? Nope. And now you wanna go too, dontcha? Thursday night, shirtless men drink free, and I would tell you not to miss their weekly underwear ball but then again, maybe you should. Miss it, I mean. [link]

Omega is the last letter in the Greek alphabet, which is an allusion to frat boys and the ideal of saving the best for last. The college-y atmosphere is a definite turn-on and for the time being, this is the only… place in town to see nearly naked (good-looking) guys dancing for dollar bills. The crowd spans younger to older, preppy to nerdy, and vanilla to kinky. What they share in common is the burning desire to act out the very porn they are watching on the video screens. Drinks are unadventurous, but the bar is still a sexy place to shoot pool with a stranger. [link]