You suddenly find yourself confronted with some rather vital questions:
1) Will the Nats vanquish the Yankees this weekend? (Yes, two of three.)
2) Who wins in November? (The tall guy in the red tie.)
3) Will you ever drink inside again? (No.)
Here to provide evidence (at least for No. 3): A Bar, a discreet little haven of umbrellas, hedges and fire pits, soft-opening Thursday in the brand-new Avenue Suites hotel.
This is the kind of secluded outdoor lounge you’d see in Miami, only without the pool (and without Pitbull). To get here, you’ll pass through the stark white hotel lobby, stopping to take in the large-format photos of Clooney, Sophia Loren and Sidney Poitier.
You’ll want to show up at happy hour, where you can take refuge from the afternoon sun amid the giant umbrellas and fans while you order specials from their four beer taps and the giant punch bowl sitting outside in dry ice.
But should happy hour become plural, you’ll lead your swelling group to the gas-fueled fire pit for small plates like shrimp ceviche and seared tuna, and rounds of cocktails, which in a matter of weeks will include drinks frozen instantly into sorbet via liquid nitrogen.
When it hits 90 out, you always head for minus 300.
1) Will the Nats vanquish the Yankees this weekend? (Yes, two of three.)
2) Who wins in November? (The tall guy in the red tie.)
3) Will you ever drink inside again? (No.)
Here to provide evidence (at least for No. 3): A Bar, a discreet little haven of umbrellas, hedges and fire pits, soft-opening Thursday in the brand-new Avenue Suites hotel.
This is the kind of secluded outdoor lounge you’d see in Miami, only without the pool (and without Pitbull). To get here, you’ll pass through the stark white hotel lobby, stopping to take in the large-format photos of Clooney, Sophia Loren and Sidney Poitier.
You’ll want to show up at happy hour, where you can take refuge from the afternoon sun amid the giant umbrellas and fans while you order specials from their four beer taps and the giant punch bowl sitting outside in dry ice.
But should happy hour become plural, you’ll lead your swelling group to the gas-fueled fire pit for small plates like shrimp ceviche and seared tuna, and rounds of cocktails, which in a matter of weeks will include drinks frozen instantly into sorbet via liquid nitrogen.
When it hits 90 out, you always head for minus 300.
