Not finding a whole lot of friends in Friendship Heights

Major story takeaway: you should run and see “The Hangover,” but a) you shouldn’t see it in Friendship Heights and b) you should never see any movie with me.

Since Sarah is staying outside of Bethesda for the summer, Friendship Heights is actually a convenient halfway point and when Sarah told me there was a bar in the movie theater, it really seemed like the ideal place to go see my boyfriend, Bradley Cooper.

Neither Sarah nor I had done proper restaurant research for dinner and ended up having totally acceptable albeit unremarkable pub fare at Chadwick’s before heading to the movie an hour before it started to have cocktails.

The sign outside “Club Cinema” says “No one under 21 is admitted” although two different PG movies are being aired from inside the “club” so not sure how that one’s enforced.  The bouncer/ticket taker resembled a shorter Hagrid from Harry Potter in a red polo shirt with pit stains.  Judging from the following (recreated) exchange, he may also have been either of severly impaired mental abilities or stoned:

Hagrid: {after carding me and checking my movie ticket} Ladies, your movie isn’t in here.

Sarah: Yeah, we’re going to the bar.

Hagrid: Bar’s closed, bartender’s on a break.

Karen: Ummm… is she coming back?

Hagrid: {let’s out a big monster sigh} I don’t know. She’s the supervisor. She’s up on the roof smoking, so she might be ten minutes or she might be done for the night.

Sarah: Well, can we come in and sit down?

Hagrid: Oh I guess so.  Are you 21?*

*This is particularly amusing to anyone who has seen me and Sarah together since even she’d agree that one of us could easily pass for underage and one of us… is me.

**In transcribing, I’m realizing that something is lost from the above exchange… so just realize that every word that came out of his mouth was said as though it was requiring every single ounce of brainpower he had.

Sarah and I sit at the table and notice an abnormally high number of physically disabled people (and their dogs) in the theater — like enough that we really weren’t sure if we had inadvertently interrupted a field trip.  Many of you know my issues with tiny hands which makes these sorts of situations a little anxiety-provoking.

Anyway, the bartender/supervisor finally shows up and had a little bit of trouble understanding what ingredients I wanted in my vodka soda.  Understandable, kiddos, a vodka soda is a tough drink to master.  I threw a splash of grapefruit juice in there which was obviously asking for confusion — I really don’t know what I was thinking.  While Sarah and I sipped our beverages at Club Cinema — the coolest joint in town — the bartender took another break with her two best friends, one of whom was wearing a belt buckle that was shaped like a handgun made out of rhinestones.  Classy.

That would be the end of the story, but the addendum is that you should never see a movie with me.  Fortunately, Sarah’s known me long enough that she doesn’t find my squeals and mild seizures too disturbing.  And she did note that I have significantly reduced the number of times I’ve asked “what’s going to happen?”  (See, Melissa, I’ve improved!)  But seriously, I probably got more exercise writhing around during the movie than I did on my run yesterday morning.

So there you go…


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