The weekend will shovel for whiskey.
You'll be taking those Gore-Tex snow pants off sometime—we promise, you will—and when you do, you'll want to reacquaint yourself with some less advanced fabric. These Pentagon City denim peddlers are letting Nudie, Levi's and Nobody jeans go for $50. Just don't get road salt on them.
You might not be altogether sure what Asian bar snacks have to do with the Winter Olympics (neither do we), but when you can grab shrimp shumai, crab wontons, Asian wings and pork gyoza for a buck, you'll watch a bit of luge. Just be sure to get a seat before the ice dancing starts.
The last time you were blindfolded by a romantic interest, you were immobilized for longer than you care to remember. This promises to be a tamer (if a bit more public) affair: it only involves submitting long enough for your partner to feed you a flight of desserts and champagnes, before you get to turn the tables. The safe word is Valrhona.
If your cabin fever isn't cured by Saturday, may we suggest a brisk run. Around the Capitol. In your underwear. This benefit for the Children's Tumor Foundation begins and ends at the Pour House, where your donation gets you bar food and all-day drink specials, whether you run or not. Here's hoping the view makes up for the windchill.
One of the 30 dealers here is bound to want to take that Rick Astley LP of yours in exchange for some vintage Miles Davis. And once that's done, some DC music royalty—Eric Hilton from Thievery Corporation and Ian MacKaye of Minor Threat and Fugazi—will be on hand spinning some tunes. But not Rick Astley.
