freedom isn't free but this shit is

Fort Reno last night was awesome. I’d been forewarned that the lineup of former Fugazi members would bring a world of pain, and not in the punk rock sense. Indeed, Joe Lally played seemingly the same dirgey number over and over, only punctuated with periodic groaning and twinges of tuneless sax. The Evens started off on a slightly more upbeat note, with some songs that I might have called “power punk pop,” lest someone reach through my computer and punch me in the face. But around the hour and a half mark, Ian MacKaye started preaching and I lost it. “This song is about frat boys who just trash the place they live in and leave it to us to clean up after… oh, and I might be talking about the US government” (commence seated head-banging). My eyes rolled so far back in my head that I actually went blind and passed out.

Now, you may be thinking, “Abby, that sounds terrible. In fact, I’m considering making the trek out there just so I can napalm the shit out of that fort, ensuring no other boring twats can play ever again.” But I’ll stop you right there. What makes Fort Reno awesome is not the musicians, nor the sweaty summer evening air, nor the mosquitoes nor dirty grass nor lack of port-a-potties. It’s these two things:

1. Babies. There is nothing cuter than punk-rock families with punk-rock babies. Moms with full sleeves of ink carrying fuzzy-haired toddlers in camo onesies. Little girls in pink summer dresses chasing pit bulls with spiked collars in circles in the grass. At one point a group of them climbed up on the speakers behind the stage and were jumping up and down and waving at the crowd like tiny little groupies. It was like Pancake Mountain came to Tenleytown. Sigh.

2. Slutty high school kids. Wilson high was fully representing last night with teenagers sitting in packs clumsily pawing at each other. The girls had stringy hair and shirts five sizes too small that barely covered their navels. The boys wore even tighter black bike pants and ironic tees from PacSun. And they couldn’t fucking sit still, like there were rainbow parties going on in the back.

My girlfriends and I reclined on our blanket, quietly judging them and thanking sweet baby Jesus we grew out of that phase of horny awkwardness. And to prove it, we made tracks to Bar Pilar to flirt with the cute boys behind the bar and talk about makeup. Take that high schoolers.

Check out more local DC awesomeness twice weekly FREE at Fort Reno through August.

Oh, and if you don’t have plans for the holiday, take a look at these places to catch the fireworks. I strongly urge you NOT to go anywhere near the Mall unless you want to get caught in a clusterfuck of tourists. Happy 4th.