It was called, “Booeymonger’s”. A late night oasis for those of us who partied into the late night in the 70s and 80s. I just Googled them and am stunned to see they are still there, in the same Friendship Heights location in Washington, DC.
I owe the store, and its employees, a huge apology for a late night event in the summer of 1979.
My girlfriend really wanted to see the second Rocky movie. It had opened a couple of weeks before, in mid June, of 1979, and we went to see it in a theater over near Chevy Chase Circle. I picked her up about 7 PM from the Little Falls neighborhood of Bethesda, MD, and we got high, and drank some on the way over for our 8 PM movie. That was normal for those growing up – late teens and early twenties – in that era.
I often over imbibed, however, and as we walked into the theater, I took, unbeknownst to my girlfriend, a Rohrer 714 pill. A Quaalude. I settled into my chair, and never felt the drug take effect – until I tried to stand up, and my legs buckled for a second.
I rallied. I’m a big strong guy – bigger and stronger back then – and we walked out of the theater, and got into my car. I was driving a 1976 Honda Civic – a tiny car, but with a 4-speed stick, a very fun car to drive.
We decided we were hungry, and headed over to Booeymonger’s for some late night food.
The “Patty Hears” sandwich was a favorite of mine – turkey and bacon with melted cheese and Russian dressing, on a baguette. Freaking delicious. They also had some good loaded fries, long before being called “loaded”, for fries that is, was a thing.
We got our food and headed up a short 3 or 4 steps to a table. The more I was up, the sloppier I was getting.
I ate about half my food and excused myself to the bathroom – a single room men’s room with a lock on the door. I waited for someone to finish up and leave and then entered, turned and locked the door, and then, with no warning, it happened, exorcist like.
It was horrible. Vomit spraying everywhere away from me. I seemed to not get any on my, but the walls and counters were soaked in vomit.
I reached behind me, unlocked the door, set it so it would lock behind me, so no customer would have to experience the mess. As I went by the cashier, I whispered, you need a clean-up in the bathroom.
I walked to my girlfriend and said, simply, “we gotta go!” and she could tell I was serious.
She grabbed her purse and out of the place we went.
She asked, as we got to the car, “what happened?” “Nothing good,” I replied, and accelerated away from the front of the place.
As I drove her home I explained, and started to feel better. We were both amazed I seemed to have nothing on me.
Through much of my teenage years I would get a flash of a room destroyed, if I lost it, but it was usually tables and chairs broken and tossed around the room.
The reality was more horrifying.
I AM SO SORRY Booeymonger’s! I deeply apologize to any and all crew members who had to clean that up. You are a wonderful restaurant that just had the wrong me, at the wrong time, eating there.