A bit of sad DC news: the Childe Harold shut down this past weekend. When C and I first moved to DC, this was our local for the first several months. Most of our early DC memories and social life pretty much revolved around that bar. And not only were we clients, but C was an employee, doing a brief stint of serving while she looked for work. I also did some updating of content for their Web site from time to time.

I met all kinds of great people here. And had all kinds of great memories: New Year's Eve 2004, ringing out the terrible year that had been 2003. Meeting up with The Jones, which briefly resurrected my key-tickling days. My 30th birthday, spent at the downstairs bar. Oh, and Superbowl XXXVIII — witnessing the flop heard round the world, Janet Jackson's pasty-clad boob.

And there were many others, all stained slightly amber with Bass Ale, which ran freely from the taps. If I ever owned a bar, I would want it to be pretty much exactly like the Childe. Smokey downstairs pub. Dark upstairs restaurant. Music on the weekends. Great food. Casual, real, and full of interesting people.

I haven't been to the Childe in several months. I miss it. And I know DC will feel a dent in its landscape as places like this are supplanted by the chain retail and fast food sprouting up along Connecticut Ave in Dupont at an alarming rate. But the Childe will still play a vital part of numerous people's personal histories, including mine.

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