The Green Lantern: Woof

I went to the Green Lantern, a "Levi's and Leather" establishment, for their "Shirtless Men Drink Free" night, which takes place on Thursdays from 10-11. I had not been to GL for several years, but I was looking for something different, curious as to whether the venue had changed since my last visit, and pleased by the idea of free alcohol.

The last time I went to GL was 4 years ago, for the same event. It was also the last time I took my shirt off in a bar. I had no intention of taking it off but a couple of drinks and a glance around the crowd sent my inhibitions down and my self-esteem up, less due to alcohol than the tendency of self-consciousness to lose its traction when situated in a room full of middle-age “fuck it” proudly displaying hirsute beer guts. I still remember standing in the packed "Tool Shed" bar on the upper floor of the Green Lantern, experiencing the full-figured feeling of a man's wet, carpeted chest slowly bristling across my naked back like a brillo pad, big, old, and coarse, as though it were specially made to clean oilfield platforms. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and sent an involuntary shudder through my clenched body before slowly turning around to see that I was violated by a very large man...wearing a sweater. In spite of that particular experience, I remember getting really smashed and having a great time.

Taking my shirt off felt a little strange, but free alcohol is a powerful ambassador for nudity. I arranged to meet several guys there that I only hang out with peripherally, people who are friends of friends or cool people that I rarely get to spend time with, so the experience felt particularly foreign. I met the guys at the front door, lost the shirt, grabbed a drink, and proceeded upstairs to the Tool Shed. I was surprised to find the place packed cheek to jowl with MEN. Not the kind you find pomaded and primped at Cobalt, but masculine, hairy, I can take apart an engine and put it back together while watching football, MEN. Looking into that crowd and processing a sight I’m unaccustomed to during my infrequent forays in to clubland, I surprised myself by recognizing an uncommon feeling of timidity—particularly upon locking eyes with a man in the center of the floor who bore a striking resemblance to wrestling superstar “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, who at that moment was looking at me like he wanted to suplex and pin me to the mat with a quick 1-2-3. I gulped audibly.

I turned to check behind me at the 3 boys who accompanied me upstairs, all looking like they just walked into an Arkansas chicken farm on killin’ day. Many years ago this venue was forced to close due to its function as a graphic sex bazaar where you could find just as many used condoms on the floor as cigarette butts. Looking at this crowd of grizzlies, cubs, and professional game hunters, I knew that if we were to suddenly revert back to that less austere time, none of my coterie would escape with a functioning sphincter muscle. I quickly realized I needed to “man up” and start a chat so we could get past the statements of discomfort that matched the looks on their faces, and get busy with some free man-drinking.

Other friends showed up and voiced similar concerns about the venue, but the alcohol flowed freely and inhibitions went right along with it. My overall opinion of the place: cheap but strong drinks, friendly and relaxed (but butch) clientele (some of whom are smoking hot, most of which are not…but that’s completely a matter of taste), good music (surprisingly), and a refreshing change of pace from the average dc gay bar. The GL and the Tool Shed have my recommendation.