OK, so we were going to meet up to celebrate The Lovely Bea’s **th birthday at the Boulevard Woodgrill in Clarendon. Bea’s partner in crime, Placid Jamie had arranged the soiree, but her fiancee’s father was diagnosed with an incurable illness earlier in the day, and they were flying to be with him.

When Jon-without found out, he and Bea decided to call an audible and change the venue to something more approachable to their apartment in Ballston.

The Woodgrill is just a couple blocks from Lyon Hall, where iI have been trying to establish myself the last couple weeks, our our Wednesday group has been meeting. We all like the staff, but it gets pretty packed on Fridays and I wouldn’t attempt to get ot the bar on the weekends. Plus, it is just a bit hip for me, since our demographic is a little too old for the thrity-somethings who are the majority of the patrons.

There are not many alternatives, There are the ones that are WAY too young- A-Town, Rock Bottom and Car Pool, the ones where you can’t hear yourself think- Muscle Bar, World of Beer and the Green Turtle- and the First Down is kind of a dump.

(Top to bottom: A-Town and Car Poll on Fairfax Drive, near the Ballston Metro Orange Line, and Rock Bottom over in the World’s lamest Mall on Glebe).

Jon-without thought we ought to try The Front Page. I had been there a year or two ago and was unimpressed. An alert reader wrote to inform me that it was worth another look, since her son was one of the bartenders. Accordingly, I was receptive to the idea, and we got the word out to the other Willow Refugees.

That is what we have taken to calling ourselves- likening our plight to the wave of humanity scrambling to get out of Syria.

Anyway, about the usual time, I found a place to park in front of Rustico on Wilson, crossed the street and walked up to the Front Page.

They have a nice beer garden attached on the Metro side of the building, but there was a hint of chill in the air. The Refugees were occupying the apex of what would have been a corner of the bar, but wasn’t, since it whacked off into a 45-degree angle. I was surprised to see Long Hair Mike and Jarhead Ray- I didn’t know they had been told about the affair. I hopped up on the stool next to Jon-without. John-with had failed to get the word, my bad, and Chanteuse Mary was next to him, followed by the Master Chief and Jake and his Bride Celia.

TLB was late, of course, living on Central Bea time as she does, which is close to ours but a half hour off. As we waited, we introduced ourselves to the bar staff, which included a tall fellow named Sean, a shorter fellow named Shea, and my pal’s son Brian.

We asked some background questions: “Can we bring our own diet tonic?”

Sean: “I am the ABC manager. If it is sealed when it comes in and you give it to me, yes.”

Shea: “Is this place affiliated with The Front Page downtown?” “Used to be. That ended about three years ago when the owner sold the two places off to different groups.”

Brian: “Did you used to be in the Beach Boys, and did they name Wilson Boulevard after you?” “Yes. I tend bar as part of my community outreach ministry.”

The ambiance was cozy, the wood as dark and rich as Willow’s, and the service was attentive, even though they didn’t trust us to run a tab without swiping a credit card first.

I Imagine that will come in time, since the consensus was that we might just have found a new home.

Copyright 2015 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303