It seems as though we live in a time where weekend fun at GW entails gelling your hair straight up, putting on your snazziest button down shirt or pseudo-classly/pseudo-slutty dress and waiting in line outside your club of choice (unless you “know a guy”).

Once inside, you’ll enjoy a night of uncomfortably close, sweaty dry humping in a small room, surrounded by 10,000 other clubbers and the worst selection of music imaginable. Well if you’re like me, you have red hair, are allergic to apples and you can’t stand the idea of weekend clubbing, there is hope. Nestled in the heart of downtown dc (11th and E), is quite possibly the best thing to happen to me since Skid Row.

Harry’s is a throw back to the bars of old, a hole in the wall with good music, great burgers, cheap beer and where everyone knows your name. Bar tender, Tommy, the raddest dude alive, plays a selection of the finest rock and roll music from the 70s, 80s and 90s, dishing out cold pitchers at amazingly low prices. So there you have it, a light in the dark, and the only place I know that will let me play my ipod.