Along US-29, just north of the VA-28 intersection, just south of West Ox Road.

Anyway, walk into O’Toole's and in five minutes you’ll either have my reaction (“Can we just go to the convenience store and drink beer in the parking lot?”) or you’re excited about the chance to dance and mingle with the successful singles of Centreville’s Whore Corridor. In which case you’ve long ago realized this isn’t the site for you, possibly around the time we made our fiftieth Robocop reference. O’Toole's is totally bifurcated, on the south side people are packed in head-to-tailfin, a deejay is putting out the kind of crappy dance music that makes me light q-tips on fire, and oh, did I mention that you’ll have to wade through all of this in order to get a drink? To the north, things get more functional, this is where we spent 99% of our visit. O’Toole's has an arcade section lifted from a bowling alley (I know I saw a claw game) and about ten pool tables. Granted, this section isn’t overly crowded, if it was you’d never be able to use a cue properly… but it is drawing a population of frustrated never-againers from the dance bar half, so it’s always full to capacity.

And here’s where I have to give credit, O’Toole's has well-oiled machinery keeping the tables in efficient rotation. A dedicated monitor station maintains a waitlist, and darkens the light above tables as soon as they go unused. So, while we were initially turned away (and forced to lean against the railing, waiting and enjoying our relative ability to converse away from the dancetorium), it wasn’t too long before our name queued up. I figure most people sign up and move on to an area where they’ll never here themselves being called, so just being around the booth means you’ll likely get the next table. Pool here is in a midrange price, about $8 an hour… I’ve seen worse, I’ve seen better, and the tables are pretty well maintained. But aside from billiards, where’s the love?

And more than that, where’s the atmosphere implicitly promised by the sign outside? The name reads: “O’Toole’s Roadhouse Restaurant”; someone long ago raped all the Irish out of this place. Look at all the dancing going on, all that’s left of the pub atmosphere is some green paint and a Guinness tap. Although the roadhouse bit kind of fits, I can imagine Patrick Swayze throwing me out of here. It’s my way or the highway, every one! The staff seems to perform admirably for being in the middle of a feeding frenzy every night, but also didn’t distinguish themselves. I dunno, this just wasn’t our thing, maybe it’s yours. I can’t possibly see into the mind of a dancer or a mingler to tell why people would like this kind of place, but I’ve been bitching about the crowds for a while, so maybe they do.

Or maybe there’s another explanation. I’ve been doing a grid-by-grid deconstruction of Centreville, trying to find the places we might have missed, holes in the wall that are sitting pristine to the west… and I’m coming up blank. Additionally, the total list of non-restaurants in Centreville/Chantilly is barely cresting ten. Density isn’t big around here, there’s sprawl without urbanity, there’s no old growth; and thus you get a choking sensation when a place does try to bring a little oxygen to the atmosphere… it will inevitably suffer from too many people, anxious to breathe. Kind of against the thesis of this sight, but oh well. We love McLean, Vienna has some highlights, Springfield looks promising on paper, I’m itching to work into the corners of Reston/Herndon, but Centreville seems to be a labor to explore. O’Toole's… feh.