the end of an era (and I need a date)

My brother David informs me with regret that the bar at which he's been working for several years, Third Edition in Georgetown, will be closing its doors this coming weekend. David says that Saturday night will likely be his final night there, and I had promised him, several weeks ago, that I would be there to witness the ultimate sinking of the great ship. It's astounding to me that Third Edition should be closing, given its prime location just uphill from Wisconsin Avenue and M Street, the very heart of Georgetown. But the scuttlebutt is that Thirds has suffered setbacks from poor management and the suspension of its liquor license—several times over the past three or four years, in fact—as a result of underage drinking.

I don't normally go to places like Thirds. I prefer quiet, calm venues: a library, a decent restaurant, a tranquil spot on campus overlooking the quad. But this weekend marks a milestone, the end of an era, so I figure the least I can do is bear witness to the passing of a popular watering hole. Who knows what the future holds for that patch of real estate? Here's hoping that a good restaurant takes its place.

And as much of a shame as it is that Third Edition is going the way of the dinosaur, it'd be an even greater shame for me to go there alone. I need a date. But whom to ask? I'm privileged to work with several smart, kind, gorgeous ladies, but there's the weird politics about the whole coworker thing (I can at least thank God that I won't have to bring up Steak and Blowjob Day, which was yesterday/Pi Day; that would've been awkward), and I'm not sure that any of them would say yes, anyway. Plus, the next time I see any coworkers will be Saturday morning—much too short of a notice to ask someone out that same evening. Ah, well. Going stag might be just the ticket; it's going to be a bittersweet night, after all.


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