Written by Hunter Thomas

Friday, 3 August 2012


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What are you doing tonight?

"Yea, man, like let's go down to Washington DC and par-tay in George Town! I mean, were going to have a great time, have a few brewskis, find some ladies! Let's roll!"

The Reality

First you go down to George Town and your ride is a geeky friends 1991 Volkswagen rabbit. You sit in traffic for an hour to get into George Town and then you can't find a parking space. Leaving your car where you're almost positive you'll never see it again you and your friends head up to the main strip. Yes, there are girls there, but not one of them would be interested in losers like you and your buddies. Perhaps you already know this, but you go anyway, besides it helps the economy by keeping the bars full and prevents the world from over populating and reproducing losers.

First stop a bar, any bar. It makes no difference there all the same when the lights come up. You pound down a few beers that only cost you fifteen dollars each while listening to some marines exchanging stories that make you wonder why there have been no charges of crimes against humanity filed against the Marine Corps. Then as a group of three girls walk in you can hear the eye's balls click and the necks snap as every swinging dick in the place spots the targets. The girls sit down and the macho ballet begins.

One guy pulls a rumpled pack of Marlboro's out of his plaid shirt pocket and sticks a cigarette in his mouth and lights it as if he's the cowboy from an old Marlboro commercial. Problem is he's not. He lights the filter end of the cigarette and damn near chokes to death on it. The girls giggle and look away One down, 25 more to go.

Another marine reaches over and grabs his friend and punches him in the face as another picks up a beer bottle and smashes it across his forehead. The girls are once again unimpressed. Then you walk over and ask if you and your friends can buy the girls a drink. The girls say yes and you and your friends pop instant woodies thinking that you have it made the big time.

Then the waiter comes to the table with a 250 dollar bottle of wine and asks if you would like to sniff the cork. Realizing that none of you has the money to cover this extravagant beverage you excuse your selves to go to the bathroom and crawl out the window and scurry away.

Totally humiliated you skulk into another George Town hot spot. Inside this establishment is a whirling shit storm of lights and music with hundreds of sweating bodies vying for a few cubic feet in which to gyrate and dance to the music. You and your friends pay the 20 dollar cover charge and order a few more 15 dollar bottles of beer and stand-off to the side watching the blob of sweating humanity before you. You and your friends stand there supporting the wall, not realizing that the human selection process has totally eliminated you from the game. Yes, there are girls there who are hot. So hot in fact that your tongue is dragging across the grimy mildew soaked carpet, but you and your friends are out of your league. You want, you need, and want to be out there rubbing up against these George Town debutants but you have already been eliminated at birth from ever legally laying your hands on them.

The girls that are interested in you are over in the next lounge that looks like a scene from Star Wars cantina scene. After this realization, you walk into what is referred to as the "loser lounge", and immediately know that humiliation can not be too far behind as you watch a beast of some sorts, that you think might be a girl, swallow a whole shrimp cocktail in one bite. The only thing in the room that seems semi attractive is a woman who appears to be missing the right side of her face.

Totally humiliated, out of cash and hornier then a ten peckered Billy goat, you head back to your car and discover that it has been stolen. Your friends abandon you and you crawl off to sleep in the gutter where you are arrested for vagrancy and tossed into the slammer, where you meet a transvestite who asks if you want a date.

Welcome to George Town!

Hunter Thomas

dc Lampoon National Affairs Desk

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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