So Georgetown, besides being home to that eponymous school, is generally known for being the most supremely snobbish place in the city, it seems. Charlie (I think) told me once that when they were building the DC metro system in the ’70s, the citizens of Georgetown rejected having their own stop because it would bring the plebians in. Or some such.
Anyway, last night after class I navigated a complicated bus route (thanks, no metro in Georgetown) down to the Georgetown waterfront to meet Ashley and a coworker of hers at a Yelp-sponsered event, which was the most Bay Area-like thing I’ve seen so far. Next stop was then a decidedly non-Bay Area bar: Rugby, which is attached to the next door Ralph Lauren Rugby store. Yeah.
We talked to a group of people who knew Ashley’s friend through a group called the City Tavern Club, which is like a country club minus the golf and the country. Members pay dues and have monthly minimums for the privilege of drinking together in Georgetown at this historic club where the founding fathers once partied. It’s awesome.
My favorite character was wearing a black Ralph Lauren polo, Nantucket red colored shorts, sockless loafers, and had hair slicked back ala Patrick Bateman in American Psycho. “Georgetown is the only place to go in this town. Everywhere else is terrible. I spend all my time here.”
“Being in Washington is hard on your liver,” commented his friend.
So excited about this town.