What happened to the Angry Inch? A True Story

(Credit: Jillian Coyle, Special to Metromix)

Photos:

The Angry Inch is gone. A moment of silence please.

While not a cornerstone of the Adams Morgan scene like, say, Madams Organ, the Inch was a safe bet for area partygoers, even if people just stopped in for the curious name. (If you don’t know what an “angry inch” is, ask your local sex therapist or rent the movie “Hedwig and the Angry Inch.”) There were definitely more chic and shiny spots on the 18th, but if you wanted to start or end your night with a relaxed, fun, slightly dive-y bar, you couldn’t do much better than the Angry Inch.

But out with the old, change is good, live in the present…all that good stuff. True Story is the new occupant of 2415 18th Street and their new marquee sign at least looked promising. Could the space be turned in to a slightly classier affair and capitalize on the popularity of the Angry Inch? Let’s just say the results witnessed were truly depressing.

There were definite warning signs. No line or crowd at the door. The welcoming Guinness sign was long gone. Things were not looking good. Once inside we were met by…nothing. At 11:30 on a Saturday night the bar was shockingly empty, with maybe a “crowd” of fifteen people scattered throughout the first floor. The Angry Inch would’ve been packed like sardines by this point (though with the laid back crowd and fun 80s music, it was more enjoyable than it sounds). When I heard there was free Pac-Man (a definite plus to the place), I assumed there would be a long line to play, but the arcade game sat unused the entire time we were there.

At least with the lack of customers, service should’ve been stellar. While friendly, the bartender clumsily tried to throw his bottle to impress the females present, but forgot other key skills like remembering what drinks were ordered. They won’t be getting any awards for personality either.

Moving upstairs wasn’t any better. Coming up the steps exposed something I never thought I’d see at Angry Inch—the floor. The lounge/dance area was pretty much bare. The leather couches by the windows at the end of the room, once hot commodities, were empty for the taking. The DJ played music and tried to get the crowd going, except there was no crowd to listen to him. For Adams Morgan on a Saturday night it was like something out of “The Twilight Zone.”

Going back after 1 a.m. didn’t show much improvement, just a scary amount of empty space inside. It was obvious patrons were confused and saddened about what’s happened. Given the location and the lines at every other spot nearby, it’s almost apparent people are purposefully avoiding True Story—maybe out of some fierce loyalty to the previous establishment, maybe out of displeasure at the bland bar that’s taken its place.

For now though, this is one true story I wish was false.


Décor: From the outside, with its movie marquee sign, you’d think you were in for a somewhat classy throwback to old theater-style bars, but the inside says otherwise. When you enter the lower level, the red and grey themed interior and track lighting fits the bill, but the neon-lit bar, curved tables and Pac-Man arcade game fights for a more outer spaced setting. It looks like they just repainted everything, not revamped the whole bar, and new customers don’t seem to be sure what to make of it.

Food: None, though I’m sure the bartender will give you an extra lime if you’re nice.

Drinks: They’ve got the usual bar arsenal and token beers on tap, though they looked to be out of Bud Light by 11:45 the night we went. The Jack and Coke was decently put together, but the gin and tonic was a light enough on the spirits to taste like Sprite, interestingly enough.

Crowd: Hard to say given how empty the place was, but I’m assuming True Story would draw the typical Adams Morgan crowd of area college students, locals just out of school, and people just looking to go out and get sloppy .

Insider Tips: Once you get your drink, set up shop near the arcade game, because Ms. Pac-Man is free and she is glorious.

Service: The bartender was friendly enough, though he forgot one of my friend’s drinks immediately after she ordered. And it’s not like Cranberry Vodka is hard to remember.

Sounds: Gone are the fun 80s and 90s pop songs that made Angry Inch such a hit. In its place are more traditional bar/club fare, mainly popular hip hop and rap. So if you want to hear “Livin’ On A Prayer,” you’re going to have to sing it yourself.

The Damage: With tip, three cocktails ran us about twenty bucks—close to the usual damage area bars will do to your wallet.

Dress Code: None. A few people were spiffed up in snazzy club attire, but shorts and sandals did just fine as well.

Bottom Line: Transitions are tough, especially when following up from such an iconic spot like the Angry Inch. We’ll give you a little more time to pick up the slack True Story, but for now color us unimpressed.

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