I didn't make it down to DC tonight to spare my girlfriend from my shitty mood. Knowing that she had Phil to keep her company this evening made the choice a little easier.

I had a chance to relax around 6:30 and sat down to watch a movie when man-about-town Dave Corun dropped me an IM (as usual) looking to hit the town. This time it was for a showing of DJ Lovegrove and Thunderball at the Sonar Lounge.

At that point I was definitely in the mood for a little down-tempo music with friends, which in my limited experience back at the Canton Square location, Sonar has been pretty good for. I also recall it being pretty geek friendly. Realizing that Thunderball already had a track on the Trancemissions 2000 CD in my car made it official.

We finally got to the club around 10:00, paid our $10 cover to one of the six people in the "cooler than you" solid black bouncer outfits milling around in the entrance, and took advantage of the open bar until 10:30. Of course I managed to leave my earplugs in the car, so I got to hear a bonus 29 dB of "Snare Drums on Repeat," (the title of the vinyl I assume our DJ was playing all night long, and about 5000 Htz higher than anything that should be allowed in an ambient mix). Strike one.

I'm going to cut to the chase on strike two. Intolerable chick to dick ratio. Any gal that came into the bar was accompanied by at least three guys. I think out of the dozen that actually came into the lounge, six were dating guys on stage. Not that I'm trolling these days, but when I stare off in a random direction in a decently packed club, I'd like to see something in a skirt dancing once in a while.

So we're making the hand motions that we're all ready to leave around 11:30, and Thunderball comes on stage. After a brief sitar and bongo set to the accompaniment of over-favored turntables, the vocalist grabs the mic and shouts "Hey Baltimore... (something something mumble mumble) dance!"

Is this Baltimore? Seriously? Dude, I thought this was Seattle. Thanks for fucking reminding us. Guess what, everyone in the club with you probably LIVES HERE. They were here last week, they'll be here next week. The worst part is the band hails from DC. Yeah, welcome to the other beltway 20 minutes north. I bet it took you longer to pack your van than to drive here.

But you know what? All told, Thunderball was pretty good. It's just a shame they had to compete with the throbbing electronic echoing in at 120 dB from 6 feet down the hall. Guess what, a sitar and stage mic can't compete with a 180 Htz digitally coded sine wave off the latest "Nuttin' but Bass" mixing CD. I know the band actually has dynamics. Too bad they had to redline their amps just to compete. Strike three for Sonar.

A delightful midnight anticlimax ended our evening at Rocky Run in Charles Village, then I came home with a stomach full of hot wings and Red Bull to set my clocks ahead an hour. Not like I was getting any sleep any time soon, anyway.

The post game report from Dave seems to indicate that a female other than the gal who traded us a ink stamp for $10 and the Rocky Run waitress actually spoke to any of us. If Dave got it on with six girls, it must have been during the 30 second trips to the bathroom when he wasn't ordering girly drinks and checking his Blackberry for new messages.

Okay, maybe possibly the waitress was hot for him for like five seconds, but only because he didn't mention the crayon drawing of a leperous hunchback on the tablecloth was supposed to be her. And he would have too.

April 4, 2003 - April 6, 2003

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