51st State Tavern, Washington, D.C.

For several years, I've always want to go to a little neighborhood bar in Foggy Bottom called the 51st State Tavern, primarily because their outdoor chalkboard was always advertising these great happy hour specials. But, Leo would never go. Ryan would never go. Ian would never go. Even Laurent (who went to school around the corner) would never go. Finally, though, I was able to get Robert to go, with just two magic words: chicken wings.

That's right, dear readers, chicken wings, for Tuesday at the 51st State Tavern is 10¢ chicken wings night.

The poor waiter had barely finished repeating Robert's beer order (the house brew) and my iced tea request before Robert was asking him to bring us forty chicken wings. Forty! That's a huge amount of chicken wings, but, hey, it only cost $4.00. Now, I'm not a big chicken wing afficionado as is Robert, but I dutifully forced my share of vinegary, spicy buffalo wings down, occasionally thinking to dip a corner into a little plastic container of chunky blue cheese dressing.

Would you believe that they didn't even provide finger bowls after the meal?

I don't think I could have eaten another wing, but I thought Robert was going to order another decade of them. He's decided to diet this week, though, so he abstained. And he wouldn't let me order dessert, either.

Robert wants to go back. But only on Tuesdays.