United Conservatives of Virginia

My Most Excellent Weekend

This is Part 1 of what might be two-parts.

Friday, 22 September, marked my return to Walter Reed Army Medical Center after an extended absence brought on in part by job responsibilities.

It also marked the one year anniversary of my direct participation in street level demonstrations,
my introduction to people who have, in my opinion, become very good friends and my membership in Protest Warrior.

Early Friday afternoon, I received a call from Gary L., the leader of the George Washington University College Republicans asking if someone could pick them up from the Metro Station at Silver Spring.
I immediately offered to pick them up from the campus, as I was staying in Crystal City, and it was right on the way.
When I arrived at the corner of H and 20th Streets, I was greeted by 16 members of the Republican Club, mostly freshmen, and some I had met at the Freedom Walk.
Only having room for 7 bodies, I loaded those who wanted to ride into my Durango, and the remainder took the Metro.

The presence of these youngsters at the Main Gate of Walter Reed Army Medical Center made for a very good night. Gary interacted with a photo-journalist from the Italian Communist Press and seemed to make her re-consider her positions concerning the War on Terror.

I ran into several soldiers I had met last spring and who I thought had returned home. They greeted me like a long lost brother.
I was admonished severely for being away for so long, and hugged repeatedly for coming back.

I was instructed, in no uncertain terms, that I will report to the new drinking establishment for rounds and lies.

This new establishment is a small, dark, cozy bar owned by Hal Koster, and caters specifically to wounded soldiers, any soldier, and any supporter of the afore-mentioned soldiers. It’s located in the Adams-Morgan section of Washington DC.

Hal, for those of you living on the Sun, is a Washington DC legend, and a hero to many who have enjoyed his hospitality. He, together with his partner, Marty O’Brien, owned Fran O’Briens Steakhouse, which was located in the bottom of the Capitol Hilton on 16th Street, 4 blocks north of the White House..

Hilton Hotels, in its corporate stupidity, decided that wounded soldiers, some of whom use crutches and wheel-chairs to get around, might fall down the stairs, and decide to sue Hilton Hotels. Setting aside the absurdity of this mind-set, I doubt any soldier, given the opportunity to enjoy a decent meal with his family and friends, away from the sterile atmosphere of an Army hospital, would mind falling down a set of stairs to get there. I certainly doubt they’d sue anyone.

So, Hal and Marty closed the doors, because Hilton refused to renew their lease, citing inability to comply with ADA guidelines. So much for Hilton. You listening Paris?
Oh, I forgot, you’re too busy screwing your boyfriend, and posting the videos on the web.

Having arrived at Hal's new place, with my assistant chapter leader, AllRightAlltheTime, in tow, donned in Protest Warrior t-shirts, we were immediately set upon by the above-mentioned soldiers, and forced to consume large amounts of alcoholic beverages, with suspicious sounding names like Washington Apple, and YagerBull, and Peppermint Schnapps.
Wandering through the small but rowdy crowd of revelers, I spied a familiar face;
it was none other than the notorious citizen_Smash, AKA LtCmdr Smash, Chapter Leader of San Diego Protest Warrior, smasher of left coast pinkos at Balboa Naval Hospital, smasher of east coast pinkos, at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, and one of my heroes. He had spied our t-shirts, and was making his way through the crowd to greet us.
I promptly introduced him to AllRightAlltheTime, my assistant chapter leader, and she drooled appropriately. (She has a thing for military men, being young, single, and having been in the Army as an MP for a time)

Smash was just preparing to leave, so I didn’t press him to join us. I sat at the bar for a time and allowed the bartender, who I knew from another establishment, to ply me with drinks. I felt guilty after awhile, and finally slipped him all the cash I had.

I took my drink and moved down the bar to where Hal was enjoying the company of several very comely young ladies. I introduced myself, explained Protest Warrior, and told him what we had done at Walter Reed.
He thanked us, and shook my hand.

He introduced me to his partner, Tom Maier, who runs The Aleethia Foundation The Aleethia Foundation is the organization which funds the dinners for the troops, and also hands out small grants to soldiers who need a little financial help.

Now I’m going to ask for help. Specifically, I’m going to ask everyone who reads this, to help Hal continue this most excellent of endeavors.

With the exception of dinners at the Italian and Taiwanese Embassies, and two rooftop dinners at another local establishment, The Exchange, Hal has paid for every Friday night dinner out of his own pocket.

I would consider it a personal favor if every one of you could send Hal 10 dollars, 20 dollars, whatever you can afford.

Make all checks or money orders payable to The Aleethia Foundation and mail to 1718 M Street NW
Suite 1170 Washington DC 20038.
You may, at your discretion, use United Conservatives of Virginia as the originator of the donation.

I recovered sufficiently to make the Troop Rally on Saturday, with large doses of caffeine, Alleve, and Motrin.

So ends Part 1 of my most excellent weekend.
Part 2 will be posted when I can remember all of it.

To quote a very famous singer/songwriter: “The hangovers hurt more than they used too.”