Thoughts on Shots (Round Three)

Crime story comparisons seem truly de rigeur among urbanites everywhere - friends at school in bad neighborhoods brag about midday muggings on the quad - and DC is no exception to the rule of horrific one-upmanship.

At a dinner party on Capitol Hill the other night, the winning story was none of the several muggings and home invasions rattled off. It wasn't really even successful. . .

A group of residents were having a small gathering on a neighborhood porch with wine, cheese, fine spirits, and all of the necessary trappings of mildly pretentious good living in early evening when a man walked up to a porch, directed a gun at one of the attendees' heads, and demanded money from everyone. Pretty typical. Until the party-goers invited their assailant up for a drink, calmly, and repeatedly. He finally accepted one. Then he accepted another. And another. And another. And another. Twenty minutes later, the now-sloppy gunman was crying and requesting comforting hugs before he apologized and went on his way.

So, what is the moral of this story? Where DOPS, Metro, mace, and menacing male friends have failed, alchohol succeeded. I'm just waiting for Georgetown to begin plying us with the alcohol with which to ply any attackers . . .