Go to the University Mall shopping center, at the corner of Braddock and 123.  Head around to the back, via your Driving Automobile or using the staircases that intersperse the mall... Fat Tuesdays is back there, facing the right way.

Okay, we're going back to Fat Tuesdays at some point, it's a good place, it's the best of the GMU bars, it contains peanuts... but for now this page is somewhat representative of our Mardi Gras experience.  Or lack thereof... See Matt's column for that.  I, however, have seen many sides of the place, I'm a veteran of its barstools and bouncers; I'll be offering a legitimate review.  Starting now. 

Back when I was in college, the first time, one could identify the bars that served the student community... in Charlottesville, city planners were nice enough to group them all in one corner of the city, in sight of the academic buildings and whatnot... So based on this model, the University Mall shopping center on the corner of Braddock and 123 should serve as the alcho-capital for just-cross-the-street George Mason University.  I know I never drank there until Ben became a graduate student... but once we started going, I noticed that the place wasn't that crowded, that obviously Fat Tuesdays was not the point of student congregation my math indicated it should be.  Ben explained that this honor fell on the Firehouse Grill in Fairfax, where underaged kids have an easier time getting a drink (insert obligatory Dead Milkmen reference).  So Fat Tuesdays stands in a state of relative unblemishism... well visited but not too crowded, frequented by a more mature, erudite crowd.  I suppose we have the bouncers to thank for this... thinking back, they have always been very thorough.   Not overstepping their bounds, mind you, but just shy of the mark… but I’ll accept you, guy with the shaved head and three separate back-scalp folds who made literary recommendations to a table full of MFA students (and one hangers-on)… you’re part of the thin slow line that keeps twenty-year old frassholes out of my bars.   

What’s great about Fat Tuesdays?  They don’t have pitchers, but the draft prices are decent and the taps run a good gamut.  I forget what I drink here besides Guinness, but I know they have a Guinness tap.  They host a decent amount of live music, and they’re not Nazis about the cover… if you show up late, they’ll let you slide in without a full charge.  I also dig their outside area… which at the time of this writing (Fat Tuesday itself) was not in season.  But in the past, you’re sitting in this little fenced in area on the sidewalk, in the bottom of a suburban bowl of a parking lot; in the summer the geography is working for you to provide a pleasant breeze.  I fondly remember getting a call for a mid-afternoon emergency drinking session, and whiling the four to seven happy hour away in Fats’ little patio.   

Oh, and the peanuts!  The food here is decent, I liked the burgers and I’m sure I’ve had some of the more New Orleans styled entries among their entrees, but why bother?  We’re cheapskates, we’re beyond fighting it, and Fats provided you with a gratis meal at every table, in the form of a basket of peanuts.  Shell, pop in mouth, then dismissively discard shells onto floor… I like to think I’ve made an art form out of this consumption.  There really aren’t enough places that do this kind of peanut service; I blame the ABC board and its ridiculous forced marriage of bar and restaurant!  I mean, if your bar has to have a real kitchen, then it has no motivation to cultivate a range of bar food.  A real bar wouldn’t have hamburgers, it’d feed patrons entirely on peanuts and pickled eggs.  Someday I’m going to change that law… of course, I’ll need to run for a political office, and the only way I’d ever get in would be in one of those “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” finagles, but then I’d have to have the same name as the previous official… but my last name is only common in Poland, Google sez… so I’ll have to import a lot of Polish people, probably illegally because I hate paperwork, convince them to run for state legislature, hmm, they’d need fake IDs, I think Matt has some mob connections of sorts, but they’re all in Vegas, and once one of them gets elected, I’ll kill him and take his seat, and change the ABC laws.  I might as well start looking for Richmond housing!  But first I’ll need a boat that can get to Poland… 

Oh, wait, this was the writeup where I was supposed to stay on topic…  Fat Tuesdays features the Golden Tee machine delivered to every bar upon opening by the ABC commissar, who’s days are numbered… they also have an elevated stage area.  Lots of bars in this area book music acts every night, despite not having the architecture to house a high school garage fuck around session.  Fats, though, has great accommodations for a place of its size.  Again, during the warmer months, the outdoor section will work for you… if the band isn’t up to snuff or you’re not in the mood, duck outside for a more muffled drinking experience.  But the best thing about Fat Tuesdays is that it’s not Brion’s Grill, the nearest competition.  I don’t want to say anything I can’t take back, but that place seems to be frequented by the elderly.  That’s another law I’m going to pass…

Brian's been in many times before, I'll go in and write a review when it isn't so crowded and I don't get much opportunity to write random stuff anyway so this is the way it is going to be.

Anyway, we decided we would go to nearby Elies Deli to get subs. Brian said this place was better then Subways, and he's right. I ordered a grilled garlic veggie sub and it was quite tasty. I especially liked the wine rack filled with Snapple. Some cute girls came in (on the way to Fat Tuesdays no doubt) and Brian and I were yet again hit with the realization that we are horrible judges of how old people are. I don't want to be a sketchy old man - I just wish that girls younger then 21 should not be allowed to dress like that. It would make things easier on all of us.

As we left we resurveyed the Fat Tuesday scene and, although the ratio was now about 6:1, the line was much longer so we cut our losses and bagged. One short trip and a phone call later and Eddie and Alex had joined us Mark's Pub for some pitchers. Not party party like Fat Tuesday should be, but dammit I'm old and have a whole week of work ahead of me. Anyway, the cute Russian waitress was in attendance, and she remembered both of us (although, to use her words she "especially" remembered me) which always improves the quality of the visit. Ed and Al are becoming quite the BMDIP regulars, to the point where we can have conversations that reference previous conversations. Anyway, our planned night of craziness didn't really pan out as we expected, but a good night was had by all nonetheless.