It’s heartening to see how die-hard bar regulars react to fire alarms in this supposed panic-prone city.
Last night I met my husband and his demoralized co-workers at the wonderfully cool (as in AC) and kitschy Buffalo Billiards. It’s basement location off Dupont Circle was the perfect antidote to the shock I experienced upon seeing the bank clock scream in blazing digital hysteria “107 degrees!! Get inside while you can!!”
As we detoxed over a perfect pint of Guinness, the fire alarm went off.
Did the patrons bolt? Did the hustlers wave their pool cues in panic?
No, of course not. We all just shook our heads, nodded to the bartender, and ordered another round.
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs