Madam Tomahawk
Nick Kolakowski
"The humid air pulsed with music from a thousand open windows, the live bands in every bar fighting a sonic Ragnarök with the tunes blasting from the cars crawling the 18th Street drag, all of it smashing into a thunderhead of drums and bass you could hear from a half-mile away, beckoning the city’s drunks and partiers: head to Adams Morgan, where all your needs can be satisfied, and all your bad decisions will be washed away tomorrow morning along with the crushed beer cans and half-eaten jumbo slices."
