Q. Can anyone join Friday Coffee Club?
A. Yes. Even fictional people. And fictional animals. And mythological people/animals. In fact, I split a muffin with a centaur this morning.
UPDATED: Q. Where is it? When is it?
A. It's at M.E. Swing's at 17th and G, NW. It's on Friday morning from roughly 7:30 (allegedly) to 9-ish.
Q. What if I don't like bikes and hate coffee?
A. Then you're weird. But you can still come. All are welcome. And it's a free country. For now.
Q. Do you have matching satin jackets with the name of the club written in cursive on the back?
A. Not yet.
Q. Do I have to be a witty conversationalist and/or a good listener?
A. It would help, but it's not strictly necessary. For example, I am neither of those things. You can do what I do by nodding very compellingly and insisting you just need "one more cup" and then you'll have something interesting to say.
Q. Is the first rule of Friday Coffee Club not to talk about Friday Coffee Club?
A. No. It's probably the most over-tweeted, over-photographed meeting of a dozen or so people in all of Washington. Other than a Supreme Court decision. Also, CNN reports that Friday Coffee Club is held on Saturdays.
Q. Why do you even do Friday Coffee Club? Can't I just drink coffee at home?
A. Because drinking coffee with cool people is fun. And because being late for work on a Friday coffee is some sort of protest for DC statehood or something.
Q. I'm a rich billionaire and I'd like to sponsor Friday Coffee Club. To whom should I make out this giant check?
A. Please email firstname.lastname@example.org and do not tell anyone else. I promise to share. Sure.
I rode East Capitol, then rounded the Capitol, took Penn by storm (where I saw Nicole and Vince [and his shameful lack of fenders] riding up 4th from SW), galavanted up 15th, darted across the White House plaza and shimmied across 17th. But before I did the shimmying, this happened.
|Don't stimy my shimmy, yo.|
You, sir, are frightfully close to me. I was there first, patiently waiting for the light to change. He stepped in front. I got shoaled by a pedestrian.
After "da club" as no one ever calls it, I rode back over to 15th street and then up that-away, taking care to avoid careless pedestrians who can't but help walk into the cycle track and get indignant over the fact that bicyclists are in this space. It'd be like my riding my bike down train tracks and harrumphing at the arrival of the Acela. The cycle track is for bikes! That's why it's there! There are bikes painted on the pavement in the cycle track! There are not pictures of guys in mismatched business casual and iPod headphones!
Sacrificial Lamb Kabobs and Wraps. Pass it every morning. Have never eaten there. Great name.
Some extra sand on Massachusetts Avenue. Either this is washed up from the recent storm or they're opening another Beach Bar.
|Worst beach bar ever.|