So now I’m en route back to Houston. The DC Metro is a lovely thing, but you can never account for train delays, so in planning for a slow trip I of course generated a quick one (two trains, no waiting). I figured I’d call Nogators Ground Transportation Coordinator Willis to confirm that the flight was on time, but discovered that my provider of choice does not in fact, um, provide at Washington National. I can’t make a call for love or money. I have, as folks say, “no bars” (and never mind that I’m typing this in a bar of sorts).

No problem, I thought. I’ll just use the Prez Club’s Wifi and send my esteemed colleague and DC host an email asking him to call Erin to confirm on-time departure, etc. Once in the club, though, I counted myself clever for realizing I could text-message Erin from the T-Mobile site (of course, I only realized this after sending the aforementioned mail; I’m thinking of it as a belt-and-suspenders sort of thing).

About this time, the bartender — a charming woman of middle age who used to live in our fair city — asked what I was doing, so I told her. Her response was “I have free weekends and no long distance; do you want to use my phone?”

I did.

Moral: Bartenders can solve all problems, even some whose solutions are not found in the consumption of certain potent potables. Tip accordingly.

We were going to do something clever about the passing of Derrida yesterday, but Fafblog beat us to it.

We are deeply sorry for what we did last night. We know that many people — some of them our dear, dear friends — enjoy a dram or two of Bushmill’s from time to time, but as a result of our actions in a Washington, D.C., Irish pub last night, we regret to inform you that there is no more Bushmill’s to be had, as we have drunk it all.

We’re really sorry. I blame Tony.

What we thought when we ate at the IAH Wendy’s, again

“They sure could use a taqueria up in this bitch.”

What we thought when we opened the Powerbook to write that

“Holy crap, Continental’s Prez Club finally got off the suck-stick and put in Wifi.”

What we did in celebration

Had a pint of pseudoShiner. What the fuck is wrong with just having Shiner? What is the Ziegenbock crap?

What we’ll do after that

Have another.

And then?

Stop being a smartass, would you? They’re free.

What’s weird about the President’s Club

In addition to the presence of children, the excessively bright lights, and the widespread patronage of people who haven’t seen the inside of a proper bar since sometime in the Clinton administration, the bartender has a cube-style nameplate propped up in front of the Courvoisier.

Notwithstanding that, how we’re pretty sure we could get into a fight just about now

“Are those Braves the best damn team in baseball, or what?”

Why we won’t do it

Not enough time to get that drunk before flight. Also, baiting Astros fans in that way would suggest a greater attachment to or investment in professional sports, by a couple orders of magnitude, than we actually have.

Remember that thing about the bartender’s nameplate being the weirdest thing here? Never mind.

The dorky looking guy in Dockers and plastic hair next to me at the bar has an MP3 ringer of “Back in Black.” The bartender just laughed at him.

Where we are in that beer progression

Number two is on the way

How long we have until the flight

Looks like an hour. This post could get an awful lot longer.

Letterpress may die in our lifetimes, or if not ours, then that of our progeny.

Watch this, about Firefly Press, to see how cool it is. (7+MB Quicktime)