On my second outing, I decided to be more geographically focused. I picked out three bars in Fairfax City to visit and evaluate. If there were cool places in Fairfax County, I hoped they’d be in Old Town FX. In the four years I lived there, attending GMU, I never experienced the local nightlife. But I love the city and want an excuse to revisit it often.

On the way to Fairfax City, I stopped by Fair Oaks Mall. Along the main road circling the mall was supposed to be a bar called the Red Moon Saloon—not located in the mall, but across from it. After searching, turning around and searching again, I surmised that the place was located inside the Holiday Inn. I called the venue’s phone number, but it was disconnected. Just as well, I thought. How happenin’ could a place inside a Holiday Inn be anyway?

I drove down to Old Town FX and parked by the Subway shop on University & Main. I was expecting Bridges Billiards to be located where the old Planet Nova was. Instead, I noticed a smaller bar beside it with a live blues band playing. It was long and narrow and just dingy enough to get my hopes up. It was called T.T. Reynolds—a place I’d heard plenty of during college, but never visited. The man at the door asked for a $5 cover charge, so I took a quick look inside, saw a good mix of people and paid the man his five dollars. I sat down at the empty end of the bar, close to the door. It was packed on the other end, beside the stage. I asked one of the good-looking barmaids if they had any hard cider—Woodchuck or Cider Jack. They didn’t, so I was immediately disappointed. Luckily, they served mixed drinks, so I got a Vodka Collins. I sat alone for a while, until a cute girl with spiky blonde hair came around the bar and sat beside me. She started playing the bar-top video game machine, and I occasionally watched. She said little, though I gave her a couple of opportunities. She seemed upset, so I didn’t press. One of the barmaids came over, and the two of them moved over to a nearby table to have a closed conversation. I decided to slide over and play a couple of video games myself. It was my first, solo experience playing Word Safari. I did pretty well, but never got passed the second round—there’d always be one or two words left, darn it! After my dollar’s worth of credits, I finished my second Vodka Collins and got up to leave. The band was still playing, but I figured I’d gotten my five bucks worth. I asked the barmaid if there were any local pool halls, and she said Bridges was on the other side of Main Street, down a block or two. (Grade: venue A-, people B+, music C, drink D+)

I knew the area really well, so I assumed Bridges was where the old Black Eyed Pea used to be. I walked up there, only to discover an Irish pub called Ned Devine’s. From the street, it looked like the place was packed tight. I walked in and discovered it was true. The place looked cool—there was a bar, a few tables and a stage in the middle. The young man at the door asked for a $5 cover. Not again. For a moment I considered it, but because there didn’t seem to be anywhere to sit, I refused to pay and left. (Grade: venue B, people B, music B-, drink ?)

I got back in my car and headed west on Main. I happened to notice a lively spot on the right, so I turned in to check it out. Sure enough, it was Bridges Billiards. I parked and headed towards the entrance. First, I noticed all the flashy, suped-up Hondas. Then I noticed all the young “urban” people in their trendy clothes standing outside. Finally, I noticed the awful thumping music coming from inside. It was the Shark Club all over again! To hell with that, I said, as I turned around and left. (Grade: venue ?, people F, music F, drink ?)

The final spot I had picked out was Fast Eddies in Fairfax Circle. I’d been there before, but not by myself. It was time to see how receptive it was to singles like me. Parking was easy—it was after midnight. I walked in and wasn’t carded. I walked through the first room, which was a more low-key, more “dignified” bar area. The second room was where all the pool tables and hip young people were. Given the nature of pool playing, most of the people were there in groups. The only singles were relegated to the bar. I scanned the bar once, up and down, but didn’t see any openings. I went back into the low-light, cherry-wood room and had a Cider Jack at the barren bar. There were two HDTVs set up behind the bar, so I watched a little professional pool playing before I paid for my drink and left. Forget this, I thought, I can watch TV at home. (Grade: venue C, people B+, music B, drink B)

I had about an hour and a half before last call, so I decided to end my day at—you guessed it—Dr. Dremo’s in Clarendon. I hurried over there, so I could order a grilled cheese sandwich. I got to the bar and had two Woodchuck Ciders with my meal. I went to the jukebox and put in four dollars to immediately play two songs—Megadeth’s “Tornado of Souls” and Faith No More’s “Digging the Grave,” both of which rocked the pants off the bar patrons. It was very satisfying. Nothing notable happened at Dremo’s, other than the fact that both the twins were behind the bar. [Pause to reflect] I finished my food and drink and headed home a half-hour before closing.

Fairfax City had been done—and there were two places worthy of a second visit. T.T. Reynolds is a great little bar in a great little location, but I wonder if the clientele becomes much more “fratty” during the fall and spring. Ned Devine’s looks pretty cool, but because it’s so crowded, I’d rather take someone with me when I go. Luckily, both are close to each other and both are in Old Town FX. If location was everything, these two would take the cake.

It defies logic. The sun goes down, and I jump in the shower. Not to end my day, but to begin it. I’m going through all the fuss of getting myself ready—combing my hair, cutting my nails, getting dressed—when, normally, I would be heading to bed in two or three hours. I feel hot right now. In one hour, I’ll be cooled down enough to finish dressing. My hair will be dry enough to comb through and style. Until then, it’s more of this. Like I didn’t waste enough time today. I could plan my evening—where I hope to go, who I hope to meet, what I hope to say—but it’s pretty much the same as always. The solitary life of a suburban bachelor. The nightlife is not really my scene. But it seems to be a nice distraction from the solitude. Who knows? Every now and then, there’s someone interesting out there to meet.

So, since I had the evening to myself and I didn’t want to spend it at home in front of the TV, I decided to compile a list of local bars, pubs and clubs and take the time to visit each one of them. I’ve been disappointed with the lack of western Fairfax hang outs and refused to accept that the only cool bars in the area are in Arlington and D.C. My mission became clear: find three or four genuinely cool places to hang out in my town. I already had a list of ten places, so now it was time for a little reconnaissance mission.

As depressing as the thought was to me, I felt I should at least visit the Shark Club in Centreville—just to know what I was missing. A little after 9 PM, I parked my car and walked up to the club. Before I got within 20 yards of the place, I heard thumping hip-hop music blaring from the interior. I immediately did an about-face and decided that I wasn’t that desperate. (Grade: venue ?, people ?, music F, drink ?)

Next, I headed to Herndon to check out a place called Carpool. My friend had once told me it was a meat market and rather amusing (if not pathetic) to experience. The place was a decent size with several sectioned-off rooms and an outdoor terrace. They had lots of pool tables, couches and video games, as well as a large, lengthy bar. The venue itself was actually pretty cool. It’s just that the clientele was mostly young, college fratheads and older, desperate-types. True enough, as soon as I sat down at the empty end of the bar, I was joined by two older women looking to strike up a conversation. I smiled and nodded to be polite, but I didn’t say anything to encourage further discussion. Instead, I did a lot of television watching (game 6 of the NBA finals was just entering the 3rd quarter). After my lone Cider Jack, I paid my tab and left. (Grade: venue A, people D, music C-, drink B)

I noticed I didn’t have any cash, so I decided to head down to my bank in Chantilly. Bungalow Billiards was close by, so I stopped in. The place seemed packed with the after-work, yuppie crowd, but I figured I’d stay for at least one drink. One Cider Jack turned into two, as I watched the fourth quarter of the NBA Finals game. I was happy the Spurs won. The barmaid was nice to me, so I gave her a nice tip. Then I left. I noticed that the customers in the bar seemed to have gotten a lot cooler since I first arrived. Maybe I should come back again another day at a later hour. (Grade: venue B, people C, music C-, drink B)

It was now time to go someplace familiar and comfortable. I hopped onto the highway and headed to Dr. Dremo’s in Arlington. Parking was easy, since it was after midnight. When I got in, I picked a spot at the bar beside an attractive young woman and in front of Theresa the lovely barmaid. I ordered a dark & dry Woodchuck Cider (is there anything better?) and began to look at the menu. Before I had a chance to order, I noticed how incredibly awful the music playing in the bar was. I quickly got up and put some money in the jukebox. I had the option of making one song come on immediately after the currently playing song, so I paid a little extra to make it so (just to give pause to the musical insanity). I put another 5 songs in that I figured I wouldn’t hear in the next 2 hours anyway. As soon as I sat back down at the bar, Megadeth’s “Tornado of Souls” began blaring through the speakers. The townie yuppie crowd didn’t seem to like that, so a bunch of people made their way to the jukebox to put in more Dave Matthews and other crap. For five and a half minutes, I basked in the tornado’s glory and felt very happy and content. The girl beside me was sitting with a guy I assume was her boyfriend. When he got up to go to the bathroom, she turned towards me and complimented me on my watch. I said thank you, and we introduced ourselves. She asked me where I lived (she lived in Springfield) and I had to explain to her where exactly Centreville was. I was flattered that she was interested in talking to me, so I kept the conversation going until her fella returned to his seat. I expected the girl to turn back to her friend, but when she didn’t, things got a little uncomfortable. The guy was visibly annoyed, so I defused the situation by turning my attention to my recently arrived grilled cheese sandwich. She turned back to her friend, and he abruptly asked her, “Making a new friend?” I rolled my eyes. She could do better. Once they left, it was just me and Theresa the lovely barmaid. Whenever young guys would come up to the bar and hit on her, she would always look at me, and we’d laugh. She’s very sweet…and married. Too bad. I was right about the songs I put in the jukebox—I never heard them. It was 2 AM—closing time, so I finished my second Woodchuck, said goodbye to Theresa the lovely barmaid and left. (Grade: venue B+, people B, music C, drink A)

After 5 hours, 4.5 hard ciders, two Cokes, a grilled cheese sandwich and about $45, I headed home. Four bars down, six more to go.

I had a great time hanging out with friends this weekend. I’ve been craving that whole human interaction thing lately. Movies, shows, bars—I love them bars. I think it’s the summer sun that perks up my social radar. Winter is for depression and isolation. Summer is for fun with friends. Does that make me a fair-weather friend? Whatever. I’d rather be a perennial pal.