The Brickskeller

As reviewed at Gabesreview.com:

Once, in every man's life, he comes upon a place that takes every dream he ever had and wraps them all together like the sweet folds of a Salt Water Taffy. I never really held out much hope of ever finding this fabled land, I was in a new city, the Nations Capitol, and it was scary. But born upon the wind, word of a magical land floated to my ears, "a thousand beers" it softly called to me. But what could this mean, this siren song, tempting me with a prospect no man dare dream.

Naturally, I headed for the subway. Not only does this technological marvel take one places faster than any man has gone before, but there would be alchohol imbibed this night, and D.C.'s finest were out in full force. Giddy with excitment, I paid no heed to the grunting hordes that made their way towards the seedy underbelly of "the District". No, I was on a mission, not even a broken escalator could slow me down. I took it two steps at a time, working out my salvation by the sweat of my brow, paying no attention to the cat calls of those on the working escalator next to mine.

You may be asking yourself, "where is this fool galavanting towards?" "what could drive him to such madness!?!?" I shall tell you, but do not say I didnt warn you. The power and misteek of this establishment are enough to make one doubt the very foundations of his existance. Offering full bar service with a beer list over a 1000 strong, the Brickskeller has been the recipient of many awards. Included in this list is the Guiness World record for worlds largest selection of beer comercialy available in 2002. Opened in 1957, it occupies the bottom two floors of the lovely Brickskeller Inn (they knew what they were doing with that combo). Lets recap what we've learned, ONE THOUSAND BEERS! And thats today's lesson.
I found myself outside a non-descript building on some back street, parched from my efforts, and I smiled. I smiled because I knew that locked inside this pandora's box, brewed the efforts of an entire planet, and thier persuits of beer.
"How many in your party?"
"One"
"we only have an empty space at the bar"
"Perfect"
And so it began. I flew with unbridled passion that night. Racing from country to country, savoring the sights and sounds of distant lands I knew I would never see. England, Austria, Belgium, Russia, Japan. Chicken strips floated in and out of my consiousness at one point, but just as soon as I could greet them, they were gone, and I was full. Smaking my lips from my meal, I dove back in, this time enjoying the fruits of the U.S.A! I dabled in Virgina, ed in California. Those who were there that night are really the only ones who can understand what it was like. We toasted the dawn, and spoke of double and triple fermentations. The carnivorus dance of yeast and sugar.
Just as fast as it had come, the dream was gone. I found myself home, cozy in my bed, drifting off to sleep with the same smile upon my face, free to dream of Honey Ales, and Imperial stouts. So if your path ever takes you to this throbing heart of democracy, listen to the wind, my friends, your dreams just might find you. (but if you dont want to wait that long, just take the red line to the Dupont Circle station, go west of Q street for two blocks to 22nd street and turn left.)