It wasn't too long ago that we decided to stay away from Washington Avenue for a while, but for whatever reason, last week we were there, driving around for 30 minutes until, defeated, we spent $10 to park.

But the reason for the return, we thought, was a good one. Brixx, the bar/pizza restaurant next to Ei8ht, a couple blocks west of Durham Drive on Washington, was hosting a special happy hour for Young Pros of Houston. The event was dubbed as a "networking/social event for young professionals" with free pizza and great drink specials.

Perfect.

Last week was our first time at Brixx, but a reliable source told us that the bar was great and not to be judged on location alone. Brixx is big, sprawling almost, with a couple bar tops inside and outside, and the outdoor area is probably the best thing about it. The patio is huge, making it a perfect spot to drink on nice weather days. And it has a $20 all-you-can-eat crawfish special running on Wednesdays and Sundays.

But we soon realized that Brixx is not a place to go alone.

We were expecting the young professionals of Houston, lawyers and engineers dressed in business suits we thought, but the people were, for the most part, dressed in jeans and polos/tube tops. And while the place was packed by 7 o'clock, it was mainly large groups hanging out on the patio.

We found an empty slot at the bar and ordered a beer (domestics are $3 during happy hour, which runs until 8 p.m. on weeknights) and focused on a flatscreen above the bar that was broadcasting a large, muscled gentleman pulling a jet airplane with a rope.

The first group of young professionals we tried to network with were two ladies with blonde hair who ordered Stoli and tonic. We said something, which they ignored before walking off. Another woman, who we thought was either a young doctor or a ballerina, also ignored our question. Of course, she was arguing with the bartender about her glass of white wine, so we understood.

We finally thought we found our network when several more young women -- we weren't sure what they did -- strolled up to the bar and started grinding on each other while they waited for their drinks. "Sorry," one of the women said. "She really likes to dance."

But when the lady asked us another question, and we said, "Excuse me?," they both laughed and turned the other way until the alcohol came.

We finished our evening at this social networking event with a shot of whiskey, and the bartender suggested that we try Red Stag, so we did.

"How was it?" he asked us.

"Not too bad," we said.

"Yeah, I've never tried it, but girls sure do enjoy it."