The San Fran Chronicles

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Day 2 – 8:30am

I have this unique ability to drink for a ridiculous amount of time, and then sleep for a ridiculously short amount of time; whether it is a blessing or a curse, only time will tell.  Mere does not have said ability, so I find it appropriate to turn on every light in the dungeon.

Mere  “What?  What’s happening?”
Me  “These lights signify morning.”
Mere  “It’s 8 fucking 30.”
Me  “You should feel great, you went to bed at 10:30 last night.”

Well, since she managed to call me from a neighboring phone, we can’t be positive when she actually crashed.

Mere  “I was so drunk yesterday.”
Me  “Yes, I know.”
Mere  “Turn the lights off.”
Me  “No.”
Mere  “Yes.”
Me  “I’m going to the bathroom, and then to the store to get liquids, look alive when I get back.”

Another blessing (curse) of mine is that I generally don’t get hangovers, although this morning my head is pounding a little bit.  I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and see the bruise on my forehead, then it all comes smashing back to me.  I forgot I had rocked myself with the same door that I am just about to open.  A funny thing about Mere’s bathroom, as if the shower (which is not even in the bathroom) isn’t enough, is the fact that she shares it with the rest of the building.  The door from her room opens up into the building’s laundry room.  “Her” bathroom happens to be the toilet located in said laundry room.  So technically, it’s a public bathroom.  Luckily for Mere, I am not her neighbor.  If I was, I would never go “number 2” in my own place.  Instead, I would eat only Mexican food and bran muffins for a solid week, and then unleash fury on the community (Mere’s) toilet.  While I’m sitting in this uncomfortably small unit, I hear a noise above me.  Yes, at approximately 9 in the morning, I am hearing Mere’s neighbors having sex.  It sounds a bit more like “love making” than “fucking”, seeing as how the female groans are coming in 6 second intervals.  After getting the chicken wings and omelette out of my system, and eavesdropping a few extra minutes waiting for climax, I throw on some clothes and hit the streets.

Of course the store a groggy Mere had suggested is closed for the holiday, but I explore down the street just a bit and find a Walgreens.  As I enter, a homeless man asks me if I can spare some change.  I tell him yes and proceed to walk right passed him.  I grab a Powerade, giant water, Starbucks Double Expresso Shot Light, another random sports drink and I search for some Tylenol which had been requested.  The lady at the counter informs me that they only have bottles of 36 pills or more, after I ask for a 2 pill travel pack.  I ask for the whereabouts, she points me down an aisle but forgets to inform me that I need an employ to unlock the Tylenol (what a country).  I find another scientist (employee) and she opens up the section.  I grab a travel size bottle (8 pills) and head back towards the counter.  I give the lady a “yeah, you’re fucking stupid” look and pay for my items.

Day 2 – 9:30am

Back at Meres’, she still lays lifeless even with all the lights on.  The light switch is conveniently located by the door and not her bed, thus stopping her from blacking out the opium den once again.  I kick her ass out of bed, and I somehow find an internet connection as she’s getting ready.  Of course, there’s the email of “things to do” from mom.  Thanks mom.  The list includes Alcatraz, Golden Gate Park, Fisherman’s Wharf, and all the usual touristy hot spots.  Nowhere on the list does it suggest places to go where I can blackout for cheap.  Once Mere is ready, she again finds it necessary to quiz me about her appearance.

Mere  “So seriously, how do I look?”
Me  “Why do you dress like a husky boy?”
Mere  “I hate you.”

I grab a sweater on the way out the door since it’s a safe assumption that it might be awhile before we make it back.

Day 2 – 10:15am

The day is young and spirits are high, it is time to start drinking.  Mere complains of being hungry, I’m shocked.

Mere  “I’m hungry.”

As she strolls the city looking for a bagel shop worthy of her taste buds, she points out all the things I had already seen last night on my own.  To amuse her, I act surprised and intrigued.  After she eats, we continue to wander around.  A bus/trolley looking thing (not the original Danny Tanner style you are thinking of) heading towards Castro pulls in front of us.  With no agenda, we decided why not go gay?  We hop on the bus/trolley and head towards the Castro District.  If you are unfamiliar with San Francisco, this is the Gay District.  Buy hey, it’s San Francisco, I thought the whole place is gay?  This is true, but if San Fran was a homosexual dartboard, the Castro District would be the bull’s-eye (brown eye).  After checking out an advertisement on the bus/trolley, Mere speaks.

Mere  “A segway tour would be cool.”
Me  “How has natural selection allowed you to live this long?”

Once we reach Castro, I’m momentarily relieved to get off the bus/trolley.  My projecting voice and curiosity about the homosexual lifestyle had garnered me some very peculiar looks from several bus/trolley patrons.  Now if you think you’ve seen gay before, you have not.  West Hollywood and Key West don’t even compare to the pride seen on Castro Street.  Not only are all the streetlights decorated proudly with rainbow flags, but the sacred art of “guy-on-guy handholding” or “manholding” if you will, is practiced by all those who roam the streets.  The first couple that struts passed us has an estimated combined weight of 1700 lbs.

Mere  “Wow, those were some bears!”

Apparently, this is a term for portly homosexuals; I guess it’s more flattering than calling them manatees.  After perusing the area and almost purchasing a “Gay is the New Black” shirt, I realize I desperately need a cocktail.  Ok, I won’t be using the term “cocktail” until we change districts.  Actually, I desperately needed a “Budweiser Only Bar that also sells Beef Jerky, NASCAR memorabilia and girl-on-girl porn.”  Unfortunately, all we could manage to find was a place called Twin Peaks Tavern which had an older male bartender wearing a nametag that read “Stella.”

Day 2 – 11:00am

The one thing I have always respected about the gay community is that they have no qualms about drinking in the morning.  In fact, all the gay people I’ve ever known have been heavy drinkers.  That’s basically all it takes to win my friendship.  Religion, politics, and sexual orientation play a very small roll in defining a person, but if that person can slam a fifth of warm whiskey before noon, hello new best friend.  Anyway, after surveying the crowd, I do indeed order a Stella from Stella (2 actually).  Mere appears to still be “on the struggle,” but she tries her best to muscle down the drink.  She gives an odd look to something going on over my shoulder.

Me  “What?”
Mere  “Nothing, these two kids just walked by and they look familiar.”
Me  “Familiar?  I thought you didn’t know anybody?”
Mere  “They look like people I met yesterday.”
Me  “Oh.”
Mere  “Shit wait?!  That is them!”

Mere goes storming out of the bar after the kids; I sit nervously alone.  Gay people can smell the straight on me, this signals them to move in for the kill.

Gay Dude #1  “Well, look at this gorgeous man right here.”

I take the compliment.

Me  “How’s it hangin fellas?”
Gay Dude #2  “Now that your girlfriend’s gone, we’re gonna come sit with you.”
Me  “She’s not my girlfriend, clearly I could do better.”
Gay Dude #1  “What are you talking about, she’s so cute.”
Me  “Good thing you’re gay, because you have terrible taste in women.”

I chuckle along with my new gay friends and then head outside to find Mere.  She introduces me to the young 4some.  Apparently, she had met the 2 guys yesterday but didn’t know who the girls were.  All 4 were dressed in 4^th of July gear.  Mere and I had a moment of reflection.  We are both fans of “dressing for the occasion,” but it had slipped our minds that it was in fact Independence Day.  The 4some alerts us that they are going to drink at a bar called Lime, and then from there continue to stumble around aimlessly.  We decide to turn their 4some into a 6some.  We tell them that we will meet up at Lime in a little bit, but first we are going to make a half-assed attempt to find some tacky holiday gear.  We go back to the Tavern and finish our beers.  This place makes me a little bit nervous, so just as I begin to sweat, we find it an appropriate time to leave.

Day 2 – 11:30am

After searching up and down Market Street (a neighboring Street still in Castro) for 4^th of July paraphernalia, we come up fruitless.  Oh well, nothing a strong morning drinking habit can’t fix.  We had walked passed Lime where our new friends were, so as we turned around and continued to search for it, we figured it was some hard to find dive bar.  The bar had a neon pink sign and was practically glowing.  Apparently we are not very observant.  We walk into the bar, which is really more of a brunch restaurant, and see our comrades sitting at the counter.  After pulling up 2 chairs and forcing everyone to sit uncomfortably close together, I flag down the bartender.

Me  “How we doing sir, what’s your name?”
Bartender  “Manny.”
Me  “Well Manny, what’s the deal here?”
Manny  “7 dollar all you can drink Mimosas.”
Me  “What’s the catch?”
Manny  “You have to order food, otherwise it’s 2 dollar refills.”

A typical trade-off, but as I plan to drink my weight in Mimosas, we will see who comes out on top.  Oh, and on a side note, generally I have Mere do all the grease work with the bartenders, but in our current location, a man’s touch is called for.  We order food and I slam my first Mimosa before Manny is finished pouring Meres’.

Me  “Keep em’ coming.”

As I’m tearing through my 2^nd Mimosa, one of the males from the group we had just pirated stirs up a conversation with me.

Male #1  “Have you ever had a Tang Bang?”
Me (frightened) “Is that prison lingo?”
Male #1  “No, it’s a shot.”
Me  “Well let’s do the damn thing.”

The Tang Bang, this should have been my first clue that the heterosexuality line that Male #1 walks is a bit fuzzy.  I’ve been drinking for ages, and I’ve tried many unheard of drinks, but The Tang Bang was new to me.  You take a shot glass and fill it half with Vanilla Vodka, then you fill the second half with Mango Vodka.  Next, you drop it car bomb style into a glass of Redbull mixed with Orange Juice and proceed to chug.  Needless to say, The Tang Bang would not be served at the Budweiser Only Bar.  The drink was actually quite tasty, which is further proof that it was clearly a very feminine beverage.  After the shot, I continue on my quest to abuse the “bottomless” Mimosa offering.  The food comes out, and I tell the waitress she can take it straight to the trash; I am not hungry.  Mere goes outside with the majority of the group to set off bottle rockets in the street.  I take this time to get to know the female group mate next to me.

Me  “Hey.”
Girl #1  “HEY!  I’m drunk!”
Me  “Dibs.”
Idiot Woman  “Happy Birthday America!  WoooOOoOO!”
Me  “You know America wasn’t born on the 4^th of July right?”
Short Bus Historian  “Yay America!  WooOOOOoO!!!!”

I decide it best to not get to know Short Bus Historian.

Day 2 – 12:00pm

At this point, I am about 8 Mimosas deep, and have just finished my second Tang Bang.  I ask Mere for the time.

Me  “What time is it?”
Mere  “Almost noon.”
Me  “Wow, it’s gonna be a long day.”
Mere  “I’m already drunk again.”
Me  “I’m feeling fairly loopy.”
Mere  “These Mimosas are kinda weak.”
Me  “Obviously, that’s why we must drink 300 of them.”

Mere decides to work her magic on Manny.

Mere  “Manny, can you make us a separate pitcher.  Maybe a bit stronger?”
Manny  “I’ll take care of it.”

Manny is a good man.  Instead of pouring the premixed Mimosa into our glasses, he now fills the glass with champagne, and then tops it off with the premixed pitcher.

Me  “You’re the Man…ny!”

Manny gives me the “you’re an idiot” look.

Me  “Sorry, I’m an idiot.”

After about 15 Mimosas in total, it’s time to move on.  I see Male #1 and Male #2 asking for the check, and I’m hoping the 12 Tang Bangs are on it.

Me  “Let’s hope Gary and Ace are picking up the shots.”
Mere  “Yeah, we’ll see.”

Manny hands me my check, jackpot!  The burden of the shot payments has been put on the not so ambiguous duo.  I wait until after I see them pay, then I move in with my suaveness.

Me  “Wait a sec, none of the shots are on my tab?”
Gary  “Oh, that’s ok, we got it man!”
Me  “Oh no way, come on man, you should have told me!”
Gary  “Don’t worry about it, it was nothing.”
Me  “I can’t believe I let you guys get away with picking up this round!”
Gary  “It’s no biggie.”
Me  “Ok, well I got the next one!”

As I continue to smile and lie through my teeth, Mere nudges me.

Mere (whispering) “Wow, you’re good.”
Me  “I’m aware.”

Just as we are about to leave, Mere finds it to be an appropriate time to drop her final Mimosa on the floor, as well as all over me.  The clean up crew does a less than successful job, and I head to the restroom to clean myself off.  While waiting in line, I realize I still have some chicken wings in me that are looking for a way out.  Once in the restroom and seeing that the stall is in fact not a stall, but just a toilet in the middle of an open floor, I decide to “pinch it” until I can find an acceptable restroom.

Day 2 – 12:45pm

Once in the sunlight, I realize that I am indeed drunk.  Also, I have only one thing on my mind, finding a bathroom so I can “make #2.”  Whenever you have to go to the bathroom, especially “#2”, you cannot think about anything else.  I go from store to store begging and pleading to use the restroom, but with no luck.  I hear the same “go down the street to Safeway” response from every store owner.  To my surprise, I make it to Safeway without shitting myself.  The rest of the group waits across the street and shoots off more bottle rockets into the crowds (something that’s sure to make them popular with the people).  I return from Safeway.

Me  “Yeah, they don’t have 4^th of July shirts either.”

I’m not sure why it’s human nature to lie about shitting, as if we are ashamed or something, but whatever.  Gary and Ace have brought a soccer ball with them that they randomly kick around as they carry on down the street.  I have a short convo with Ace.

Me  “So what’s the plan?”
Ace  “We’re gonna hop in a cab and head towards Fillmore Street.”
Me  “No idea where or what that is, do you guys live there?”
Ace  “No, we live in Castro.”
Me  “Really?  You aren’t just visiting the area?”
Ace  “Nope.”

Gary and Ace have just gone from ambiguous to confirmed.  We pile 6 people into a 5 seater cab and head towards Fillmore Street, which is having a 4^th of July Jazz Festival.  Clearly I opt to sit alone and without a seatbelt in the back of the cab, while Mere grabs shotgun and pretends to know where she’s going.

Day 2 – 1:30pm

As we pile out of the cab and onto Fillmore Street, I can use another cocktail (this term is social acceptable again).  We weave through the crowds and into a bar called Harry’s.  Predictably, Gary and Ace order another round of Tang Bangs.  This time, the Bartendress fucks them up and pours 2 types of vodka, Redbull, and orange juice all into the same glass, simultaneously.  I remind her of her stupidity, and she makes up for it by topping off all the drinks with another 2 shots of vodka.  This shot, which now fills a rocks glass, tastes absolutely awful.  After dancing to a couple Michael Jackson songs, and laughing hysterically at a man who spills his food all over the floor and then attempts to clean it up, I realize it’s time to give our new “friends” the old heave-ho.

Me  “Mere, I think we should…”
Mere  “Yeah.”
Me  “Roger that.”

Mere and I separate from the special-ed herd and stumble back out onto Fillmore Street.  The street is loaded with makeshift flea market style gift shops, so we continue to search for tacky holiday apparel.  With no such luck, it’s time to use the bathroom again.  Luckily, this time I only need to go “#1.”  Generally, I am more than willing to urinate in public, but this street is too busy and I really don’t want to get arrested.  I walk into a nearby Subway.

Me  “Hey, I know you’re going to say no, but can I please use your bathroom?”
Subway Employee #1  “No.”
Me  “I swear I’m not homeless.”
Subway Employee #1  “We don’t have a bathroom, go to Starbucks.”
Me  “Listen toots, I will be really quick and I’ll put the seat down (never put it up).”
Subway Employee #1  “We really don’t have a bathroom.”
Me  “Ok, so if an employee has to go to the bathroom, what do you do?”
Lying Cuntbag  “We use Starbucks.”
Me  “I really don’t like you.”

I walk across the street to Starbucks, enraged and full of urine.  No surprise here, but there is a line about 10 people deep.  I have just surpassed my boiling point.  Allow me to digress for just a moment.

If you don’t hate homeless people, try living in a city full of them.  They are single-handedly responsible for my full bladder.  The reason places don’t open their restrooms to the public is because homeless people creep in and somehow manage to turn a single-stall bathroom into a studio apartment.  Every person inside of Starbucks is about to become an involuntary listener to my urinate-induced diatribe.

Me  “This is ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS!”

I now have everyone’s attention.

Me  “Can’t we just live in a world where we can use any restroom we please?”

I have a few supporting head nods.

Me  “Must our bladder’s suffer because of the homeless?”

I gain more followers.

Me  “I propose Proposition 13, free lineless bathrooms for all!  Can I get an amen?!”

Nobody gives me an amen.

Random Lady  “I agree with you young man, but may I suggest outside?”
Me  “Random Lady, I do not urinate in the streets before dusk.”
Random Lady  “They have set up port-a-potties, they have no lines.”
Me  “I have a dream!  To live in a world without port-a-potties!”

Mere calms me down as we exit the Starbucks restroom line.  Reluctantly, I use said port-a-potty.  Feeling calm and relieved (drunk and urine-free), we continue down Fillmore Street checking out all the festivities.  There is an outdoor dance floor with old school swing dancing being reenacted.  I ponder giving it a try with Mere, but deciding it’s best to avoid humiliation and a possible herniated disk, I just give the dancers a thumbs up instead.  As we continue to walk, moments later I hear a crowd shouting numbers at me.

Number Dude #1  “5.”
Number Chick #1  “8.”
Me  “Um, what are you doing?  Are you rating me?”
Number Dude #1  “Yes.”
Me  “Wait, so you’re just rating people as they walk by?”
Number Dude #1  “Yes.”
Me  “Like on physical appearance?”
Number Chick #2  “Not just physical appearance, but on whatever attribute we choose.”
Me  “That’s brilliant!”

Just as I begin to engage in conversation with some truly amazing people, security comes and interrupts the fun.  Apparently they are blocking a street.  I yell at the security guard for ruining a good time, but Number Dude #1 alerts me that it’s no big deal.

Number Dude #1  “Don’t worry man, we’re just gonna move to the bus stop.”
Me  “Where’s that?”
Number Dude #1  “Right over there, it’s actually in a more mainstream location.”
Me  “Well, you wouldn’t be interested in picking up 2 more judges would you?”
Number Dude #1  “Absolutely.”
Me  “Perfect.”

Mere and I had traded out a bi-curious (confirmed gay) 4some for an awesome new 4some that’s only task for the day is to drink publicly and insult random people.  They don’t know it yet, but I’m about to take their game to the next level.  I will not rest until I make somebody cry, or at least contemplate suicide.

CONTINUE ON TO PART 4