From 123, make a turn onto Old Dominion. About a quarter mile shy of Arlington, look to your right. If you squint your eyes hard enough, you'll see it.

See Matt's column for decor comments, I have little to add. I believe that this place, and this is a theory I advance with some regularity, is living under a change from its original management. That is, it was birthed with a certain design philosophy; the class act old world wooden natural community class outgrowth. McKeevers has some years on it, though, and it has developed some nice facial tics through that organic cycle of drunken additions... wall mounted sex doll, case in point. I dig the brick, I dig the books in the windowsill, it's a pleasing combination overall.

The clientele is mainly McLean regulars, professionals that feel they've paid their societal dues and have earned a nightly hour or two of bottle reverie. That's code word for adults, middle age and up. I like drinking around this crowd, as I explained to our group (Matt, myself, Alex, and Eddie). Too many young people creates the pick-up atmosphere, or even if it doesn't, single women force us to be on our best behavior, keep the gut sucked in, as it were. Pundits and wags might look at my life and wonder how else I could possibly divorce myself from the pressures of datorum, but I'm always looking to improve. McKeevers is great in that regard; the only eye candy is the beer in front of you, so you never feel unfaithful. I know I was on a limb here from the rest of my party; they all see public consumption as a means to an end and had to artificially interject some discussion, some top five celebrity conquest wish list thing. If we had our picks of any five famous women, in their current state, whom would we concumbinage? Matt shouldn't have gone first, as he blanked for an embarrassingly long time before finally groping at two or three lucky winners... I guess he's not as celebrity obsessed as the rest of us proper Americans, although there were other theories advanced. The rest of us were pathetically quick at rattling off our checklists (submitted for public edification, in reverse order, Janeane Garofalo, Franka Potente, Chynna Clugston-Major, Liz Phair, Tina Fey).

Matt and I have been debating about just what deserves a thumbs down; he sez he'd come back to the place for a meal. I wholeheartedly agree. The menu is simple, burgers and burger derivatives, but they've mastered their narrow culinary focus. My $6.50 pepper burger was loaded with sautéed red peppers and jalapeños, oh, I wish I was eating it right now... Aside from our meal, we enjoyed some three pitchers of beer that night between the four of us. I believe we were sampling the Boddingtons from the draft, not to shabby, a selection I don't oft see around. But when the bill came, we were paying something like $16 a pitcher! Jesus Christ, do I look like I enjoy anal hemorrhaging with my drinking? Granted, we weren’t drinking the swill, but I checked, we couldn't have gotten a good deal that night. McKeevers was turning out to be just what one would expect from a McLean bar; a place well aware of its upscale crowd, and catering solidly to the gold plated SUV headfuck suburban Man.

One last thought, while I'm still writing... we tried to visit McKeevers a while ago, on the tail end of one of many nights at the Patriots Cafe... we got there after 1:00, before 1:30, and were summarily turned away; they were shutting down; if last call hadn't been sounded, they were full up, room only for regulars. Well, okay, a small place like this, I don't begrudge them catering to regulars. God knows I'd love to be a regular myself at one of these places dotting our landscape... but check out those beer prices. Short of winning the lottery or getting a job or some other windfall of fortune, I just won't be able to make it happen at McKeevers. I dub thee Faux Dive!

McKeever's Pub, take two:

I like the decor. It looks like my grandfather's attic crossed with a sea shanty. It tries half heartedly to be classy (our waitress had a faux pearl necklace) and therefore only half succeeds which is nice. Of course, any place that uses a blow-up doll as part of its decoration can't be too classy. There are a lot of obscure and old time alcohol ads on the walls (fun to try to place) and even a selection of books to read. The clientele seem to be representative of the decoration - there was us, some old people and something between us and old people wearing suits. It could be classified as both 'dark' and 'dank' so Brian was happy and I wasn't put off either.

This girl wouldn't give me the time of day

So we were happy and drinking pitchers when we start the game of trying to name our top five hottest women (as they are now, not as they were in their prime) when I realize that I have been so divorced from current pop-culture I can't do it. Eddie and Alex whip five out without hesitation, and even Brian (who normally seems to give such thoughts little thought) cranks out five without too much work. Ten minutes of prodding later, I have Salma Hayek (who looks better now then when she was in Desperado I think), the girl from those phone commercials (Alyssa Milano) and Halle Berry. Never did get the other two.

Anyway, back to the review . . .

If my calculations are correct, drinks came out to $16 a pitcher! It was good beer (Boddingtons and Bass I believe), but I can do much better up the street at The Pub, which is still McLean, or even better at other places closer to home. Beer is beer folks and pouring it shouldn't add that much to the cost. We ain't talking mixed drinks here, and we didn't get a floor show. Food was very good and much more reasonably priced. I very much liked the French fries I stole from Alex - little potato disks soaked in garlic and butter.

The End