Last night I convinced Grace (aka Vroom Vroom or Vroom^2) to meet me for drinks after work, so we moseyed over to Bar Rouge near Dupont Circle for their fab 1/2 price happy hour. We both decided that we prefer going out on weeknights--cheaper, less crowded, more locals (less college kids and/or tourists), and you get home at a decent hour. I was a little thrown at how many solo business men were there--also a consequence of the weeknight thing--but the drinks were yummy, and it was absolutely lovely to catch up with what's-her-face.
On the way out, we walked past my favorite Mass. Ave. landmark: The Australian Embassy. An evening event was clearly underway, as cars were stopping and disgorging their passengers out and into the oh-so-modern (and so NOT attractive) building. But it wasn't *just* an Australian function. It was an Australian military function. oh. my. GOD. Grace can attest to the fact that I stopped dead in my tracks, slack-jawed, and stared. We actually tried to figure out if there were some sort of public space to the embassy--a pub or similar--where we could oh-so-subtly go in to cool our heels and enjoy the, um, "atmosphere."
According to Vroom, Australians are very big fans of American accents. Well, the feeling is mutual my friends! I will happily act as a good will ambassador to this most important Coalition ally. As they say, ask not what your country can do for you. Ask, "How do I get my hands on an Aussie?"
posted by ADD @ 06:01
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