This post was written by another one of our guest-bloggers.

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When I stumbled into the Pug, a strange feeling washed over me that I can only equate to coming home after a long absence. My first thought was that this was how the folks in Cheers used to feel when they walked down those steps. I was immediately surrounded by friends and the sounds of merriment, and in the low warm light even total strangers seemed like old chums.

I want to qualify these observations with the fact that I had been drinking for hours and was hammered out of my gourd. I had also just gotten off a loud fluorescent bus, so anything would have been an improvement other than the back seat of a police car. The Pug, however, is a place made for hazy details and pleasantly fuzzy memories.

I seem to recall that there was a ton of old war-related stuff on the walls, like big model planes and pictures of old battleships. It reminded me of a really classy VFW hall, sans despair. Good woodwork, too.

As soon as I walked in the door, someone handed me a Shiner and did not ask for money. (For those of you who don’t know, Shiner Bock is like the PBR of Texas) This happened several times. I’m pretty sure I paid $9 for a draft of Flying Dog and a can of PBR at some point in the evening. As far as I’m concerned, that alone solidifies The Pug’s position among my “pretty good joints”, the only criteria being access to reasonably priced good beer and cheap beer that is NOT Budweiser. I didn’t have any of the food, but it smelled fucking righteous.

Outside, there was a dude drawing portraits on matchbooks for money. They looked nothing like any of the people who got them, and contained some strange, indecipherable code of letters and numbers. I offered him a beer, but I think he was denied access on account of craziness.

In terms of Atlas District bars, this is a great spot to meet up with your buddies in a comfortable atmosphere without the costliness or pomposity that comes with some other H Street watering holes. The mood is jovial, and the place is, by all accounts, always filled but never crowded. Great for riding a buzz to just the right place.

– “The Fantastic Mr. Fox”

Image courtesy of http://hitthatdive.com