Just your typical Saturday evening in Georgetown Wash. D.C.. My friend Tom and his girlfriend Cindy had finally departed, headed back to Detroit. They had stayed with me for six days setting up camp sites in my back yard for the 35-40 Outlaw that were coming to camp in my yard

Three men from the local Hell’s Angels chapter had been killed in a shootout with a rival biker gang and there was a huge funeral. Chapters from as far away as California were in town for the funeral. Not just the angels, but the Outlaws and several other gangs were making appearences. And my friend Tom(BOLT) and his buddies were camping at my place in Georgetown.

There was probobly around 400-500 bikers in D.C., northern Virginia, and southern Martland in the area. The Outlaws were the only ones in town though. The funeral was on Thursday with a huge rally on Friday. By Saturday morning they were all packed up and only Tom and Cindy were left at my house, and they left around three.

After a surprisingly small amout of cleanup I headed to my local Haunt,Old Mac’s down om M streetN.W across from the key bridge. I usually walked there living only six blocks away. It saved on drunk driving tickets on the way home. I don’t remember passing all of the motorcycles parked on the street being somewhere in my own world after a long week. Up the three stairs and into the bar I went, oblivious to my surroundings. When I entered I had a strange feeling, not a bad feeling, but strange. I stopped and looked around and all of the usual customers were all gathered in the corner whipering amongst themselves. I asked Sleepy what was up and he just poinyed at the bar and whispered hells angels. Sure enough there were about 15 or 16 hells angels up at the bar being loud and bikerly.All of the regulars seemed scared and nervous (i don’t know why).

To allay any suspicion and fear I march right up to the bar and asked the biggest ugliest hells angel” Are you guys in town for the funeral, and where are you all from. Helooked at me and said yes we are and we’re from Pittsburg. I said great and then turned to Al the bartender and said get my friends here a couple of pitchers of beer and a round of shots. They turned to me and said thanks kid, and how do you know about the funeral. I told them that 35-40 Detroit outlaws had camped in yard all week and were finally headed home. Sorry about your loss.

Now all the regulars saw how easy they were to talk to and how happy they were after the beer came that all the tension in the bar just evaporated. Next thing you know we were all standing around drinking beer together just as God had intended. Through the night several more of their chapter showed up and were welcomed with open arms. Amazing what a couple of pitchers of beer can do, and I didn’t buy another beer all night.

P.S. Al was so happy also.