Address: 2401 Pennsylvania Ave. NW

You saw this coming, right? McFadden's might hold the distinction of being the douchiest bar in multiple cities. Now, just because a place is a sports bar doesn't mean it must be lame. Believe it or not, there is a fine line between "sports bar" and "jock bar." Of course, McFadden's falls into the latter category.

After descending the stairs to your demise, you'll probably be greeted by some unfortunate co-ed dressed like she's ready for junior high gym class. She'll have shots for your face, if you want them. You can't help but feel bad for her—was Hooters too competitive? After you evade the mindless drunks two-stepping to the same Top 40 tracks on the dance floor week in and week out, get ready for a real fight at the bar. If you've ever played basketball, the fundamentals of boxing someone out are a requisite here. Worse, there's a spot between two of the downstairs bars that's smelled like vomit for years. It's either that, or a dead body under those floorboards. Don't get trapped there.

The crowd can get a little more mixed than you'd expect, but a conversation overheard while waiting in line to use the bathroom really sums it up:

Meathead 1: "What the fuck is taking so long?!"

Meathead 2: "Little dicks."

Hilarious, and just an example of why McFadden's is so awesomely bad.