The 25 Douchiest Bars in Washington D.C.

Image via Complex Original

Address: 1219 9th St. NW

Website: olddominionbrewhouse.com

Located in Shaw, right next to the Convention Center, this place draws people that are either generally impressed by it, are too lazy to find a better place to waste their money, or are only visiting and therefore don't know any better. Either way, it's sad, like an airport bar: You go because it's there. Inside, you'll find that it's overrun by endless liquor and beer swag, all of the lights, and other junk. You're not at a bar. You're inside an episode of Hoarders. (Which is just as good a reason to drink.) Try to watch a college football game here and you'll instantly be reminded of why you hate the BCS. 

Address: 2450 18th St. NW

Website: facebook.com/ShenanigansIrishPubDc

McNasty's, Angry Inch, True Story, Draft Pix, Morgan's, The Leaky Faucet—this place changes names so often, you'd think it was trying to hide something. But no matter how you dress it up, a douchey bar is a douchey bar. First, it's called Shenanigans, so there's no way you can take this place seriously, or avoid thinking about Waiting. It's the type of place you'd go to to get drunk quickly and on the low, but you might as well stay home to do that. If you're 19, and looking for a place to use that fake ID you just acquired, this is the spot for you. Some unlucky youngster got busted for that just last year, but it's best to avoid this place and all of its underage shenanigans. It'll most likely have a new name by the end of the year, anyway.

Address: 1811 14th St. NW

Website: blackcatdc.com

The Black Cat is a great concert venue, but its Red Room bar is reminiscent of the gateway to hell that you'll remember from the original Amityville Horror. The drinks are cheap, as they should be at a place that reeks of hipster douche. Good luck getting one of those cheap drinks easily on a crowded night; the only way it'll happen is if you've sold coke to one of the bartenders. Recently. Also, start counting from 100, because it's only a matter of time before the kids who can't handle their liquor begin yacking in unison. If you can deal with that—and the eye-burning musk of a small room packed with people smelling how they like—then you're cool here. Our advice: if you're there for a show, just chill upstairs. 

Address: 1333 New Hampshire Ave. NW

Website: frontpagerestaurant.com

Dupont Circle gives the typical douche plenty of options, and the Front Page is just another. The place isn't horrible, the staff isn't horrible, and both the drinks and food are cheap, but this place seems to attract every type of asshole imaginable. Sometimes, we're judged by the company that we keep, and Front Page's douchey clientele are the cement sneakers that doom this place. If you don't mind some obnoxious drunk crashing into you because "Party in the U.S.A." is playing (seriously, what grown man is that excited to hear a Miley Cyrus track?), then you might really enjoy Front Page. But that's on you.

Address: 400 H St. NE

Website: truorleans.com

You thought H Street was safe, eh? Not a chance. The area is rapidly changing, with new restaurants and bars appearing overnight; TruOrleans was supposed to be another hit. Sorry. Not a chance. The building looks nice and the layout is cool, but the food is disappointingly bad, as is the overall attitude of the staff. No wonder this place is so far from all the acceptable places on H Street; it's literally miles away in quality.

Address: 1343 Connecticut Ave.

Website: cafecitrondc.com

You can't talk about douches without mentioning the international crowd. Two packed levels of people dancing with no regard for you and your personal space is never a good look, and there's plenty of that here. There's loud, and then there's very loud, and this place is the latter. It makes you wonder how dudes even try to talk to girls here when it's damn near impossible to hear yourself think. Speaking of which, you have to feel sorry for the non-sloppy drunk girls just looking for a good time, because droves of overzealous dudes who have bathed in cologne will attack in packs. If your destination for the night is Cafe Citron, you might wanna sit the night out.

Address: 1825 M St.

Website: signofthewhaledc.com

As soon as you enter Sign of the Whale, you'll feel like you've stepped into a frat house straight out of an early-2000s sex comedy—sans the entertainment. Look to the right and you'll see the dance floor, which is a dirty living room. After noticing that every single stereotype is in attendance, you'll opt for upstairs. You'll be equally disappointed when you find that the second level is a fucking attic. It's got a bar, but still. If you're fortunate, it won't be packed with undergrads and you'll be able to find one of the rare spots with discernible AC. Heat rises, you know. You'll almost feel inclined to tip the floral print shirt-wearing bartenders out of pity. If you go back downstairs, you'll have to navigate through a crowd of newly-legal '90s babies, and you'll also have to cut through the cloud of B.O. That's not teen spirit you smell, it's junior high gym class. We can see the appeal of this place (well, almost) if you're a college student who has nothing to do the next day but recover from your binge drinking, but still, even that kid can do better. At some point, you age out of guzzling liquor from a tiny plastic cup.

Address: 237 2nd St. NW

Website: mybrothersplacedc.net

It's still a wonder that the Department of Health hasn't put the final nail in this place's coffin. It's adored by frat boys, old frat boys, and young interns alike. In other words, people that don't care, or just don't know any better. It has that college bar smell, something that nobody should have to experience, whether they're in college or not. Cheap beer, cheap experience. To each his own.

Address: 3295 M St.

Website: rhinobardc.com

It's easier to call this place Rhino Bar, as there's something about the full name—Rhino Bar and Pumphouse—that makes us uncomfortable. This is the type of place where you'll find some unfortunate soul doubled over in a puddle of his own puke and tears (and possibly urine) after his team takes a Saturday L. As far as sports bars go, this is the place where dreams go to die. Like any stinking pit of bodies, it gives off that unclean feeling, like you'll have to soak your hands in sanitizer for an hour afterwards—even if you didn't touch anything. And to make matters worse, it's a Red Sox bar. Enough said.

Address: 2327 18th St. NW

Website: clubheavenandhelldc.com



It's unfortunate that this place shares the name with Kendrick Lamar's brilliant track from O.verly D.edicated and Rae & Ghost's Purple Tape classic. It's incorrect that this place includes both endpoints in its name, as it's more hell than anything else. It might've (big emphasis on "might've") been cool in the past, like way back before we hit 21, but it's fallen from grace like Lucifer now. The place has two levels reserved for both destinations; somehow, they're equally bad. Do yourself a favor and find a new religion.

Address: 601 F St. NW

Website: thegreeneturtle.com

The Greene Turtle is right by the Verizon Center, home to the Caps and Wizards, so it's natural for fans to funnel into the place for a post-game drink or meal. Unfortunately, this place looks like shit and serves food that doesn't taste much better. Feeling bold? We dare you to find something on the menu that won't have your stomach doing back flips for the rest of the evening. There's so much squalor and spilled liquor here on a Friday night, you'd think Ric Flair himself came through and slapped the drinks from everyone's hands before tossing them around like rag dolls. Seriously though, why would you ever want to chill at a place that looks like a post-food fight high school cafeteria?

Address: 1222 1st St NE

Website: ibizadc.com/

Oh, Ibiza! If only you were as beautiful as your island namesake. Ibiza (erroneously and hilariously pronounced "Eye-biza" by regulars) wins points for its equal opportunity douchery; it has something that douches of various creeds and colors will love. Here's some shit that nobody will like, though: waiting in that long-ass line to get inside. You'll drop a dub for admission, but the time you'll have is not worth what you just paid. The place is huge, with a main room like an arena packed with everyone from bedazzled juicers to trap stars scouting the area for bait. You'll catch your fair share of celebrity types here, including Common, Nicki Minaj, and even Stephen A. Smith and Melyssa Ford, who just happened to be in the building at the same damn time (check the photo above). He was ogling her famous figure like every other dude in the building, and we can't say we blame him.

The newest addition to Ibiza is a rooftop bar, because every "elite" nightlife spot in D.C. needs a rooftop bar. Because everyone in D.C. needs another reason to feel important. The best moment of your night will be when they stop playing Flo-rida and switch to Waka or 2 Chainz, letting you mow down the people in the main room. Truuuuuu.

Address: 714 7th St. NW

Website: rocketbardc.com

Next time you're at Rocket Bar, try this: slide someone a $20 to play the most obnoxious trap music on the jukebox. One look at the clientele and you're understand that 2 Chainz is exactly what this crowd needs. The subterranean Chinatown bar did itself a favor by redoing the carpet, because the previous situation smelled like a one-two combo of ass and urine. The employees are cool, but the patrons stink as bad as that carpet did. The Verizon Center is located directly across the street, so do yourself a tremendous favor and steer clear of the area during all sporting events. The only thing more annoying than droves of beer-drunk Caps fans board-checking other patrons is the realization that they're at every other bar in the area. No escape.

Address: 2323 18th St. NW

Website: towntaverndc.com

There's nothing wrong with a college bar, so long as it's on a college campus. Adams Morgan isn't a college campus. Still, the Town Tavern comes with all the furnishings of a rambunctious college yack-shack. It's manageable when it isn't packed, but you're left with two options when this place reaches capacity: leave, or drown yourself in a pitcher of beer. The upside is that the beer is cheap, so you won't feel completely robbed during your struggle outing. Also, you'd think a place this rowdy would scoff at the idea of a dress code, but they have the audacity to tell you what to wear. It makes you feel like they're fucking with you. At least the staff and most of the crowd seem to understand what this place is about: getting drunk cheaply and quickly. But that doesn't mean you want to be there for the festivities.

Address: 1214 18th St. NW

Website: publicbardc.com

If you've been to one douchey bar in Dupont Circle, you've been to them all. Still, Public Bar is a little different because it at least looks cool. Kind of. If you can get past the super lame sports cliches that adorn the walls, the layout of the bar is dope. It makes you feel like you're at a sporting event—until some uncoordinated asshole spills his drink on you. If you're lucky enough to hit this place during the summer months, you might catch one of the "intern mixers," where students waste their hard-earned money on drinks in hope that maybe, just maybe, they'll go home with another sloppy intern for a night of regret. At least you get a good view of the city from the rooftop deck before taking that ultimate plunge into awkward sex. On the way out, you'll notice more of those cliches, which will make you wonder if you went out for a "good time" or just listened to a motivational talk from your shitty AAU coach. Don't leave it all on the field, folks.

Address: 1823 L St. NW

Website: recessionsdc.com

The name alone lets you know that fun is going to be scarce. Once you find this place (it's in the basement of a hotel), you'll realize that if you wanted to drink in a basement apartment, you should have gone to a basement apartment. Sticking with the apartment theme, the layout of this place is terrible—like the apartment you've just moved into, where you've tossed your shit everywhere, glad only to be there. This place is designed like that, but you won't be anything close to excited. Still, if you want to sing about your troubles, karaoke can be your release. Singing about things that trouble you can be therapeutic.

Address: 3251 Prospect St. NW

Website: georgeofdc.com

This place, like the neighborhood of Georgetown itself, is named after King George ll. It feels more like the kind of place that a certain father and son presidential team might get it poppin'. If you don't mind partying in some rich asshole's grandmother's basement, then this place is for you. Just make sure to rock your best "Georgetown Outfit," complete with the proper polo, salmon pants, and the appropriate loafer.

Address: 1319 Connecticut Ave. NW

Website: madhatterdc.com

The Alice in Wonderland-theme is fitting because this place is from another dimension. We assume you like having a good time; that's next to impossible here, unless you get off on cramped spaces. This place gets crowded on weekends, meaning you go from feeling like you're drinking in a packed classroom to feeling like you're drinking in an overcrowded prison in minutes. Drunken idiots aren't usually well-mannered, but most of these idiots don't know what "excuse me" means. The nerve of a motherfucker to look at you wrong for not wanting them in your way.

Here's a word to the wise: Go to this place on St. Patrick's Day at your own risk. It's like somebody chopped the roof off of a party bus and dumped the intoxicated contents inside. You might be thinking you could use a rude awakening, but save yourself the trouble. Seriously. We did that so hopefully you don't have to go through that.

Address: 2340 Wisconsin Ave. NW

Website: townhalldc.com

You're bound to drown in boat shoes and hoes at Town Hall. You want to see a real-life horror story? How about a nice, clean-cut gent spitting the best game (i.e. "I'm rich") to smash some social-climbing airhead. It's a car crash that you'll want to watch, assuming you're into the early stages of date rape. If you need a reminder as to just how far away we are from a progressive society, a trip to Town Hall will do the trick with the quickness.

Address: 2447 18th St. NW

Website: grandcentraldc.com

Grand Central is the champion of Adams Morgan's douchey bars. Because of this, we recommend that you show up drunk so you're better prepared for the ordeal ahead. It's popular enough to draw folks from all walks of life to partake in the horrendously douchey festivities. The bartenders are generous with the liquor, which is a plus—you'll need that to cope with the boisterous Top 40 garbage oozing from the speakers. Make your way up to the top level to witness the numerous stories in the building, from desperate hookup attempts to horrendous dancing to some poor souls surely on their way to alcohol poisoning. As it's slightly more "upscale" than other Adams Morgan bars, this place drips with excess. Still, this place isn't "upscale" enough for bouncers to tell you that you can't wear your hat inside. They aren't catering to an elite clientele, for fuck's sake. It's almost as if everyone gets the joke too, but they don't care enough to do anything about it. Though we respect that, it doesn't save this place from falling under the guillotine.

Address: 1221 Connecticut Ave. NW

Website: luckybardc.com

If your night takes a sudden turn and you end up here, it's not luck guiding you. You're doomed. It would be a cool place to catch a soccer game, but it's all too often packed with the wrong type of clientele. Like many of the bars in Dupont Circle, Lucky Bar draws a crowd consisting of the worst kinds of drunks. Whether they're pissy-drunk undergrads or a juxtaposition of Cristiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney lookalikes, they'll have you looking for a horse shoe to start busting heads. If you do happen to get lucky at Lucky, it means you'll catch a fight outside. They usually end with at least one clown taking his shirt off and at least one girl barefoot and in tears. We suggest you find another place to check out that fútbol.

Address: 1338 Wisconsin Ave. NW

Website: smithpointdc.com

Stay away from this place, unless you want to get stung by a WASP. Then again, you'll probably never step inside anyway, because you'll never be invited. You see, Smith Point has a "list." Both Bush daughters were on the list, along with other members of the invite-only collective Late Night Shots, a group of privileged dickheads masquerading as a social networking site. Old Money, new era, same problems.

The group was the center of a City Paper piece about five years ago that provided the sordid details of how the sickeningly entitled live. The only day of the week that you can get in without being a member, knowing somebody, or knowing somebody that knows somebody is Thursday, when the fundraisers go down. The stanky rich often use their connections to generate money for charity. Because they care so much.

Status-concerned social climbers live for this place, as it's a world where who you know, what you do, and where you play golf means everything. This is the type of place where the Token Black Guy will let a group of Chads drop the n-bomb right in front of him and not say anything. Just to be accepted. No country for that shit.

Address: 1900 M St. NW # 400

Website: rumorsrestaurant.com

It's not a rumor, it's a fact: This place sucks. From the cheesy spotlight casting shadows of doubt and regret on the dance floor, to the horrible tunes pumping through the speakers, this place is a mistake. The dance floor is something like a Roman coliseum, where drunken gladiators dance themselves to the death. In terms of their fun, good for them, but it's only entertaining for the spectators in a bad way. In terms of dining—if you happen to be that bold—the food is atrocious. Even by bar-food standards. Still, people manage to have fun in there; it has its share of fans. But consider: If you enjoy a place that smells like milk farts, what does that say about you?

Address: 2401 Pennsylvania Ave. NW

Website: mcfaddensdc.com



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.