Why I Hate Madhatter

Here's a chronological recap of my blogging life:

1999 (my junior year in high school): I become the last person at my school to get the Internet. I was totally rocking the 14.4 modem. I quickly realize that the Internet makes it very easy for me to research debate topics and download pornography. (Downloading porn at 14.4 is just excruciating by the way.) At this point, I have no interest in blogging.

September 2001: I arrive at American University. My 14.4 is instantly upgraded to DSL. Life is good.

November 2001: I move to the honors floor. Not because of my intellect, but because an honors kid tried to kill himself. That left an opening for me. Profiting off of attempted suicide is always trendy, kids. Anyways, I move next door to noted DC blogger Toby. The fact that I didn't wear shower shoes upsets Toby, so he refuses to talk to me for an entire semester. I remain totally unaware of what a blog is.

June 2002: I become acutely aware of what blogging is when I realize an ex-girlfriend has a Livejournal with some angry passages directed towards me. I immediately hate blogs (or, as I called them then, "Internet Diaries").

September 2002: Toby and his dearest friend Agatha finally get off of their high horses and clue me into their blogging underworld. I enjoy both of their websites. For the first time, I think Internet Diaries are neat.

Sometime in early-2005: I discover Gawker Media. From there, I discover Wonkette. From there, I discover Why I Hate DC.

July 2005: I visit a friend in New York City. We start drinking whiskey at 11am. My friend's roommate marvels at this dedication to the alcoholic arts and starts a blog to make fun of us. I ask her if she knows HTML. She doesn't. "So, you can just sign up for a blog and you can start writing immediately?"

It's amazing how out of the loop I was in regards to blogging. I didn't even know that Blogspot was free until 9 months ago.

Late July 2005: After a series of disastrous nights, I start a blog dedicated to how shitty DC bars are. The first bar that I single out for punishment is Madhatter. (In case you're not in the know, Madhatter is a dive bar on 19th and M.)

From there, I blogged my way to about 50 hits a day. In January I won an essay contest and here I am. Wheeeee.

Why should you care? Well, you shouldn't. The whole point of me recapping my entire Internet life is to illustrate that I FUCKING HATE THE MADHATTER. If the Madhatter didn't exist, I would not have this blog. My hatred towards their management and service and their customers is totally overwhelming. And I feel the need to remind people from time to time that if they go to this bar then they are fucking idiots.

The Madhatter is the only bar where I've had my ID rejected. This is tremendously obnoxious when you're 22. And you show two forms of backup ID. And the bouncer refuses to check the ID book to see that my Massachusetts license is real. And the owner refuses to apologize the next day. His reasoning was that they keep getting busted for underage drinking. I fail to see how their incompetence is my problem. Hilariously, the group I was with featured a 20-year-old who had no problem getting into the bar. Me, on the other hand, with my license that doesn't expire until 2009...I was clearly trouble.

I told the owner that I would never buy a drink from his bar and I would do my best to make sure others did the same. I was relatively successful. I went nine months before going back. Whenever my friends wanted to go, I would make a fuss and make everyone miserable until I got my way. Incidentally, I am not a good friend.

Well, last Saturday, after Toby's delightful and totally successful surprise birthday party, I got outnumbered. I was a bit tipsy and agreed to give the place a second chance. I really tried to be diplomatic. I swear I kept an open mind.

I lasted 15 minutes.

I will never understand why people go to these bars. First, the music. Who the Hell plays Eminem and ABBA back-to-back? Is Eminem even popular anymore? Didn't we all get over him three years ago? A friend said the music wasn't that bad. They even played "Livin' on a Prayer"! Shocking. A DC bar filled with drunk 20-year-old sorority sisters played "Livin' on a Prayer"? Totally shocking. Wish I could have been there for that.

Well, you don't go to bars to listen to music. You go to drink. How was the beer? Well, the place was so packed that I couldn't get close enough to the bar to check out what they had on draft. Agatha was helpful enough to pick up 4 Miller Lites. Not my favorite, but, whatever. Beer is beer. "Hey, Agatha, how much do I owe?"

"It was $20 for all of them, could you pick up the next round?"

Listen, I love capitalism. I really do. I understand how supply and demand works. But you have to aggressively hate your customer to charge $4.50, before tip, for a 12oz bottle of Miller Lite. The profit margins there are just staggering. So, no I will not be getting the next round.

Now, I could be wrong. I could just be dealing with a big tipper. But if you're charging over $4 for a Miller Lite, you have gone too far. That's my limit right there.

And to make it totally unbearable, the place is absolutely packed. There is just nowhere to hide. And if you find a spot, you're going to have to deal with getting shoved by drunk people trying to walk by the entire night. I have never given so many dirty looks in an establishment that is supposed to be fun. How can people enjoy themselves when they're packed in like sardines. I just don't get it.

So, after 15 minutes of this Hell, I throw all of my cash (four one dollar bills) at Agatha to pay for the Miller Lite and storm out of there. My temper is short enough and places like that just drive me nuts. I couldn't get out fast enough.

The next day, Madhatter is defended as a good place to flirt. I'm sorry, but if you have above average tits and/or a face that doesn't look like it's been rolled over by a steamroller, every single bar in the entire universe is a good place to flirt. It's not like guys at bars are particularly choosy. And remember ladies, every beer they're buying at Madhatter just means that they're losing extra money that could be used to buy you flowers.

Frankly, Madhatter is for stupid people. You're not necessarily stupid if you like listening to loud and crappy music at a bar. You're not necessarily stupid if you like being packed in with a bunch of people who smell like a combination of Drakkar Noir and aggression. You're not necessarily stupid if you flirt with these people. You're not even necessarily stupid if you're willing to pay over $4 for a crappy watered down beer. But all of those things? At the same time? Then, yeah, you're an idiot.

I made it nine months after my initial boycott of Madhatter. Hopefully, the next nine months of non-Madhattery will be just as sweet. If that bar burns down I will dance around the ashes.

UPDATE: The Madhatter website claims that bottles of Miller Lite are $3.70. That is a fucking lie.