The Colony Room is in that weird part of Annandale that is both on and not on VA-236.

Anyway, it's partially in that context that I was disappointed to see karaoke going on inside. Don't make us fight this, America, we beat disco and we can do it again. Karaoke isn't everywhere yet, it just seems to be on the rise, and I don't like the trend. Karaoke at the Colonial Room is a particularly weak breed; a song selection with little heart and less organization. This may be the pot calling the kettle black, but the vocals seemed moldy, off-putting even. You can't use that to judge an establishment, I know, but kitsch can only go so far before it becomes unpleasant.

Okay, sans musical concerns, the place seems pretty great. The liquor selection looks okay, but on the day in question I wasn't in the mood for anything besides beer. There are just three beers on tap, the Bud-Bud Light-Miller rainbow that doesn't give a man room to breathe. In fact, that might be the worst set of taps I've been to recently... luckily, one doesn't overpay for the privilege. I think we paid less than $2.50 a pint glass, and the pitchers were a better price than that.

The construction is perforated, I think; all doors and holes. See Matt's note about the wind tunnel that can form between the entrances at opposite ends of the place; this worked against us in this ass-end of winter, but normally would be quite nice. Light slinks around the place, a bit from the recessed glass planes of the back entrance, slats from the double doors of a back room, bursts from the next-door bustle of the Jukebox Diner next door. That's interesting; the diner and the bar share a common ownership and a common kitchen, I'd wager. That means that it's possible to order food pretty late, and sometimes a 1:AM hamburger can make or break your drinking. You might not notice the staff of the two places filtering back and forth, but we had eaten a Diner dinner and then sauntered next door.

The Colonial Room will serve me in good stead some day, just on the basis of location. But until that day, I'll let it slide around in the field of potential watering holes. It seems like it has so much promise, as if it was founded in an attempt to evoke a certain atmosphere (see "Piano Bar discussion at the top of this column). Everything about the physical decorum suggests this; the walls and booths and soft wood... but I get the sense they had to shed a bit of cosmopolitan to work in the area. The result is only inviting in it's lack of negatives; the place brings nothing actively to the table. I'm going back after class one day and seeing it sans karaoke, just to be fair.

Our second discovery is that this establishment must be owned by the same people who own the Jukebox. One, it is next door and we think it shares a kitchen. Two, we saw the same staff working in both. Three, the owner or manager of Jukebox was there wearing a Jukebox shirt.

The crowd here is a little old for my taste. I guess since the average life expectancy is 70 something, most people spend most of their time being old. Of course by old, I mean older then me which means anything more then mid-twenties. Since I imagine most young people go into DC to hang out, this further lowers the probability of finding people my own age in suburb bars. This only bothers me a little and for Brian it is nearly a prerequisite, so I won't dwell on it any longer.

But I digress. The Colonial room is dark and somewhat disorienting in its decor. Not bad mind you, there is just something about it. Our server, Mariyana, was exceptionally nice and swift, although our pocket notepads and digital camera made her nervous. Pitchers here are $9, which is good and although I don't smoke, I was amazed by the selection at the cigarette vending machine. The bar has an entrance at either end, so on cold days like that night, the bar can rapidly turn from mellow to a zephyr of frigid intensity.

The karaoke is interesting. The talent, enthusiasm and showmanship of places like the Inn Zone were missing. The selections were more lounge based - combined with the beer that was a big downer for me. On the other hand, there was a stirring rendition of Dave Lee Roth's "I'm Just a Gigolo" that cheered me up and we decided to leave on that good note.

There was one more odd thing I noticed, guys and girls did not sit in the same parts of the bar. Although both sang karaoke, the guys were firmly rooted at the bar and the women on the tables closer to the stage. Granted, this could be a coincidence but I found it very odd.

All in all, I wasn't too hot on the Colonial Room but if others were going I wouldn't complain. It does seem to be the sort of bar it would be fun to show up at with a big group and just take over - all the basics (cheap beer and karaoke) are there to serve you, it just might take some work to make a night of it.