Afterglow

I just gorged on fried fish and now I feel like I do after sex.  I don't want to be touched, looked at, or spoken to.  (Give me like seven to twelve minutes...)

I just ate at one of Washington DC's hidden gems, Horace and Dickie's.  It's a hole in the wall take out joint that makes one thing: fried fish.  But this fried fish, holy cow, it's the best I've ever eaten.  If you saw what the inside of this place looks like you wouldn't eat it, and yet the line always goes out the door. 

Here's how it works: Once you get inside be ready to shout your order to the angry looking woman behind the counter. If you're not paying attention be prepared for ridicule. The funny thing there's really only one thing to order: the "fish sandwich." It's a box with a slice of white bread topped off with 2 pounds of deep fried fish. I guess the slice of bread makes it a "sandwich." Once you pay be sure to add money to the tip jar or risk being labeled something you can't say to your mother. Then scurry back to the office and commence the affair. Yes, you will feel guilty afterward. Yes, you will do it again. Some itches must be scratched.