Livin' large at Madam's Organ

I'm in DC for work and went out to Adams Morgan (to a great bar called Madam's Organ--ah ha ha) with some fellow conventioneers.

Jiminy crickets, I love this bar!

We were an adorable group of mostly chicks, and when we started grooving to the fantastic jazz band everybody got up--including, unfortunately, this creepy old guy with absolutely no sense of proportion, by which I mean no sense of the fact that he was like fifty, and in a suit minus jacket, and clearly had "NO SENSE OF PROPORTION: HAS NO IDEA HOW PROPORTIONLESS HE LOOKS" stamped all over him. It was entertaining for awhile as he did his stiff old overtan white man dance; okay, he's enjoying the music, lovely. But when he started getting all up on our circle, and particularly all up on yours truly--but in classic creepy old man fashion, not up on enough to the point that I could have just wreaked bodily or psychic harm and driven him away, but was reduced to never, ever, ever meeting his gaze, which is impossible to do just by coincidence--I got pissed, and started making eyes at anything in the vicinity (actually, a cute HAPA boy in a suit, not a bad eyes target) to lure some, any, physical division between me and Papa Creepy. The darling band, though, situated as they were about ten inches from the dancing action, picked up on the idea of a physical division. They started playing "The Wall," and the vocalist got down among us with her mike so we could all belt together "LEAVE THOSE KIDS ALONE!" He still didn't get it.