The San Fran Chronicles – Part 4
The San Fran Chronicles
Part 4
Day 2 – 2:45pm
If there is one thing I do well, it’s insulting other people. Ugly boring people may say it’s so I feel better about myself, this is not the case. Actually it’s so said victim(s) feel(s) worse about his or herself, that is all. The team is now 6 deep, and attracting a crowd. I have been given an 8.0. This number can be used as an 8, a 0, a 0.8, or an 80. With the exception of bum lean-tos, I have never seen such versatility in cardboard. A child walks by waving an American flag.
Number Dude #1 “10 for patriotism.”
The kid is wandering the busy festival streets alone.
Me “0.8 for bad parenting. Will someone please claim their child before he becomes the property of Mexico.”
A lady walks by wearing red, white, and blue jeans.
Number Chick #1 “Holiday pants, 9!”
The lady has what we call a “muffin top”.
Me “Dressing like she doesn’t know she’s [husky], 0.”
This is the tip of the iceberg, it’s probably best that I can’t remember most of the things I said, because I’m told that it gets foul. Mere runs to the neighboring store and picks up a couple of 40s. Drinking 40s at a bus stop, if this isn’t living the dream, I don’t know what is. People are now stopping in front of us, waiting for a rating. The official term for such behavior is “Fishing”. This is unacceptable to the team, and we begin to “boo” them until they pass.
Number Chick #2 “Fishing. 2!”
Me “Move along hippie.”
A hot girl wearing jean shorts and an American flag bathing suit top walks by.
Number Dude #1 “10!”
Number Chick #1 “9!”
Number Chick #2 “8!”
Number Chick #3 “8!”
Me “Dibs!”
Several other misfits stroll passed, and then I notice an odd scenario to my left. 2 grandmas appear to have been left “unattended” by their families.
Me “Unattended Elderly, 0.8!”
This is unacceptable family behavior. You cannot turn the parade streets into an old lady parking lot. I walk over to them for further investigation. Originally I give them an 8.0 for sportsmanship, but after picking up on some old lady attitude, I lower the score. In their defense, they were unable to walk and abandoned by loved ones, I would have been a bit grumpy myself. Just when life is sweet, a haunting image draws near. Holy smokes, it’s Gary and Ace! I try to put the number over my face to avoid being recognized, it does not work.
Gary “Hey! You guys! Wooooo!”
Predictably, Gary and Ace can’t handle their booze, thus hopefully they will be easy to fool. And it’s also no surprise that these two were “Fishers”.
Ace “What are you guys doing?”
Me “Nothing, no fun to be had here, move along.”
After insisting we rate them, I do (it was suppose to be a 0.8). Finally, they take off as Mere and I exhale giant sighs of relief. After finishing another 40, witnessing Sweet Hat Lady, and dishing out more verbal abuse, we decide it’s time to move on. But first, Mere decides to be smart. She drops my camera while attempting to take a picture. Apparently Mere handles her booze no better than Gary or Ace. I buy a disposable camera to hold me over until my camera fixes itself.
Day 2 – 4:30pm
As previously discussed, San Francisco is a city made up of many districts. The Haight-Ashbury district used to be hippie central back in the 60s. Nowadays, the real hippies have been replaced by posers, acid-crazed bums, and middle schoolers puffing away on oregano. Obviously, we need to visit this district. We hop on a bus headed that way, and after passing the street, we have to get on another bus to backtrack. Mere, in her infinite wisdom, looks to me as if I was supposed to know when to get off the bus.
Me “I don’t live here.”
We make it to Haight Street, and it just reeks of weed, urine, and unemployment. I’m not sure whether it was the vomit on the streets or the stench of failure in the air, but something reminded me that I was hungry. Mere and I stumble into a restaurant called Martin Mack’s. All I have to say about this place is give it a try if you want terrible food topped with shitty service. Once I finish drinking my chowder, we hustle the streets looking for some acid. Not sure whether or not I plan on dropping it, it’s still fun to ask the Crazies for drugs.
After popping into a few shops and blatantly asking their respective clerks for drugs, I’m pointed in the direction of the park (always a safe place to score drugs). On the way to the park, I run into a couple soccer hooligans. Once we reach the park, a passing teenager offers me shrooms. This didn’t take long. The last time I bought hallucinogens from a 15 year old, I was 14. I said no, reminded him to stay in school, and continued journeying through the park. Having lost every short term urge to trip out, I decide just to climb a tree (which I later found out was the infamous Joplin Tree) and make fun of the hippies. I notice a “drum circle” in the distance. I use this term loosely, because if you really want to see a drum circle, come to my hood, Venice.
Day 2 – 6:30pm
Fearing sobriety and a bad time, we find it appropriate to head back to Mere’s place and regroup. After spending way too much time trying to hail a cab, we finally get one and make it back. This is a very crucial time in the day of a partyer. You can “take a nap” and regain focus for the rest of the evening, or you can be a champion and just continue on drinking. Clearly, I choose the latter, and force Mere to accompany me. At this point, I could really use a shower, but seeing as how it is an incredible hassle, Mere washing my hair for me should suffice. I grab a beer out of her fridge and am ready to find a new bar. Apparently, Mere does have 1 more friend in the city. She calls us, recommends a place, and we meet her and her boyfriend there.
Day 2 – 8:30pm
This bar has that cookie cutter ritzy look. By that I mean the lights are dim and the drinks are overpriced. It has a small downstairs with an indoor wrap around balcony upstairs. The bartender is hot, so obviously Mere immediately dislikes her.
Scientist Bartendress “What can I get ya’ll?”
Me “Not sure yet. What’s your name?”
Scientist Bartendress “Emily.”
I’m guessing with 3 “I’s”, you know the type.
Me “So, what are the specials?”
Emiliii “Specials?”
Enough said. We get a round of random drinks and take a moment to sit back and observe the crowd. I see 1 attractive chick, something I haven’t seen too many of in San Fran. Clearly, she’s surrounded by a herd of herbs (3 guys with matching tribal band tattoos). Behind us are the restrooms. Just as I look behind me, I see an older gentleman and his equally aged spouse enter the bathroom together. Way to go sir, way to go. Mere orders a round of shots from Emiliii. She pours us a bunch of fruity red shots which she “claims” to have invented. I’m willing to bet my reputation and left nut that it was a Washington Apple (Crown, Apple Pucker, Cran, and 7UP). Another shot and 2 pints later, I realize that Older Gentleman and His Lady have yet to exit the restroom. With a line now forming, it’s been a solid 30 minutes. Finally, they both immerge. I have already alerted everyone in line as to what is probably taking place, so as he steps out, he receives a huge applause. His Lady walks out shamefully behind him with a bright red face, Older Gentleman waves his hands victoriously in the air. Mere throws him a high five as he passes us.
Me “Still got it huh?”
Older Gentleman “I invented it.”
This man is my hero. He is the man ordering a drink, next to the lady in green. Once I figure out how to better use the internet, all the pictures will include necessary, and unnecessary, captions. Our new 4some gets chopped in half. The lovely couple has to work in the morning, such a foreign concept to me. Mere texts a few fellow employees to see if we can find new people to make fun of, success! So drunk again for the 2nd time in 12 hours, we hop in a cab and head towards a bar called Silver Cloud.
Day 2 – 11:00pm
Cabs, something with which I am still not yet comfortable. Why the majority (all) of drivers are either a bit crazy or just completely insane is unbeknownst to me. What’s even more fascinating is how we blindly trust their ability to operate a motor vehicle, especially since most of them drive like they just took an 8ball to the head (hell, most probably just did). Regardless, our driver that has arrived is indeed one of the craziest I have ever met, but at least in a laid back benign kind of way. I will try and recreate the parts of his insanity that he let ramble out of his mouth. He sounded like someone from the Jersey Shore that had just unknowingly ingested large amounts of animal tranquilizer.
Crazy McCabbie “Where to?”
Mere “Silver Cloud over in Marina.”
Crazy McCabbie “Where’s that?”
Me “Aren’t you suppose to know that?”
Crazy McCabbie “Oh yeah, never mind.”
Me “Wait what?”
Crazy McCabbie “I got it.”
Mere “It’s on Lombard.”
Crazy McCabbie “Gotcha.”
Now it starts to get interesting. This part of the conversation is all true, I just wish I remembered all of it.
Crazy McCabbie “So you guys having a good time?”
Me “Yeah, we’re going to meet up with Danny Tanner.”
Crazy McCabbie “Oh yeah, nice.”
Me “Yeah, do you know him?”
Crazy McCabbie “Yeah, he’s a good guy. I drove him earlier.”
Me “Wait what? Sir, you drove Danny Tanner from Full House earlier?”
Crazy McCabbie “Yeah for sure, elephants can eat hotdog buns faster than humans.”
Me “What did you just say?”
Crazy McCabbie “Yep, elephants won, humans were 2nd.”
Me (whispering to Mere) “Let’s get the fuck out of here, this guy’s off his meds!”
Mere is unable to speak with me because she is laughing hysterically. I try to turn my fear into laughter, so I decide to fight crazy with crazy.
Me “Yeah, I bet I could eat more hotdog buns than an elephant.”
Crazy McCabbie “I had to stop someone from killing a cat.”
Clearly it will not be possible to “one-up” his level of craziness. Mere continues to choke with laughter.
Me “Do tell?”
Crazy McCabbie “I’m a cat person.”
Me “Understandably, so who killed one?”
Crazy McCabbie “What?”
Dear God.
Me “You were saying you saved a cat?”
Crazy McCabbie “Oh yeah, I saw this guy try and kick a cat, but he didn’t.”
Me “I’m not sure that’s the same thing as preventing a feline homicide?”
Crazy McCabbie “Yeah, cats.”
This cab ride was about 15 minutes, unfortunately (fortunately) this is about all I can remember. We realize that the bar is really close to Steph’s place, so we have Crazy McCabbie drop us off at that corner so I can make sure my car is still there. I give him an abnormally large tip because he was very entertaining. Allow me to digress for just a moment. Honestly, this conversation was not made up. It was so oddly hilarious that I found the need to google it several weeks later. I found this which had me laughing my ass off. If you have an extra minute, read the short article, it’s hilarious. Also, notice the date in the URL, go fucking figure! Apparently Crazy McCabbie, not completely crazy.
Day 2 – 11:30pm
Crazy McCabbie has given me a new found energy. I was already drunk and feeling good, but now I’m on cloud nine as we walk into Silver Cloud (pun intended). After opening the front door and without even setting foot inside the bar, it’s obvious that we have found ourselves some karaoke! Furthermore, people seem to be dressed in costumes which are unrelated to the 4th. We walk up to the bar, grabbing 2 shots and 2 pints. Despite the rockin’ karaoke, the bar is relatively slow. I follow Mere on her quest to find work people. This didn’t take long, they are all outside in the smoking section. Not really knowing these people and hoping to black out for the second time in one day, I borrow Mere’s credit card and head to the bar. The bartender is nothing like Emiliii. She is very cool and actually good at her job (ugly and needs to make up for it somehow). I introduce her to a game called “Beat the Bartender” I often play when I’m drunk and don’t feel like making any friends. Basically, she pours your drink, you give her cash or your card (tell her to close it if you use a card), and by the time she returns with your change and/or receipt, you have already finished the drink and are ready to order another one. Do this with shots, and it’s not too insulting, but do it with pints and then constantly tell her to “close your tab” after each chugging, and I assure you that you will not be making any friends. I did not make this game up, I actually heard about it back in High School from someone who must have been a terribly miserable drunk, I guess now I am no better. After I chug 2 pints and order a third (sorry Mere’s credit card), she address the situation.
Anti-Emiliii or “Aunty Em” if you will “Should I just leave it open?”
Me “No, I’m feeling full.”
Aunty Em “You sure?”
Me “Yeah, just close me out please.”
She turns her back, I chug my 3rd pint. She returns with my 3rd receipt.
Me “On second thought, I could use 1 more.”
Aunty Em “Are you fucking with me?”
Me “Yes, I am.”
Aunty Em “So you don’t want the pint?”
Me “No, I do.”
I’m feeling a little guilty (very drunk) so I decide to make up for it with Mere’s credit card.
Me “Last time, I swear. You want a shot?”
Aunty Em (confused) “Uh sure?”
Me “Ok, well let me get 1 last pint and 2 shots, you pick!”
Aunty Em “Close it out?”
Me “Yeah, last time, I swear.”
Did I also mention that “Beat the Bartender” fucks you up? Aunty Em returns with my beer and 2 shots. I sign the 4th and final check and am about to make amends with my Bartendress. Just then, Mere’s GM walks into the bar.
Me “HEY! Want a shot?”
GM “Sure.”
I grab Aunty Em’s shot and toss it to my new friend.
Me “Sorry toots.”
Needless to say, I’m no longer allowed to order from the bar. This is probably best considering I just slammed 3 pints in 3 minutes, as well as a shot, and I’m working on my 4th pint. Oh yeah, and not to mention I already had a round with Mere and was drunk when I got here, some might say I have a bit of a high tolerance (drinking problem). Now that I have warmed up my vocal cords, it’s time to sing some karaoke. My dreams of superstardom are shutdown when the “DJ” informs me that they are wrapping up the karaoke and already have the rest of the night’s line up. Oh well, I can still stand alone on the dance floor and spin around like a moron. Due to The King of Pop’s passing, almost every song is a Michael Jackson hit. He is one kid petter that will be missed. I dance around like a crazed fan as two sauced-up cougars unsuccessfully try their best not to butcher Billie Jean.
Day 3 – 12:45am
After I begin to sweat, either from high levels of alcohol consumption or from having too good a time on the dance floor, I head back outside and relocate Mere. She’s still chatting it up with some workers. As I walk outside, one of the waitresses closes the sliding glass door behind me. I reopen it so we can still hear the music. Several minutes pass by, and she closes it again. This time, another person outside, I believe it was GM, opens it back up. We are all about making friends. This time, the waitress gives us an evil glare from her meth-scratched face, and slams it shut. It is time to leave. I head to the restroom and make sure to whiz on everything that looks like it has just been cleaned, and then I meet everyone outside. As everyone splits in their respective directions, I look to Mere.
Me “Food?”
Mere “Obviously.”
Day 3 – 1:30am
Low and behold, only seconds away, we discover a Johnny Rockets. This is sure to feel good tomorrow. We sit at the bar, which doesn’t sell alcohol (I asked repeatedly), and order something I finish in seconds. Our server was like someone out of the movie Pleasantville. He was pimple-faced and happy. He later confirmed that he does in fact smoke a lot of weed. Mere does not finish all her food, but instead of throwing in the towel, she insists on bringing the two remaining deep-fried whatevers home to finish this evening (morning). I make a joke about how the next time I visit, I hope she doesn’t look like an Oompa-Loompa. She does not laugh. We head outside and again have trouble finding a cab. A man driving one of those celebrity-style town cars offers us a ride.
Me “How much?”
Dumbass “20 bucks.”
Mere “That’s fucking stupid.”
Dumbass “It’s a limo.”
Mere “No it’s not, it’s a car.”
Me “We only have 10 bucks?”
Dumbass “Done.”
Day 3 – 2:30am
As Dumbass is driving us home, I’m searching my pockets for cash. Mere has none. I find a 20 dollar bill and 7 singles. Clearly this man will not be getting the 20 dollar bill. That’s always the most awkward thing about bartering. When you tell someone you only have a certain amount, and then you give them a larger amount and ask for change. Oh well, who gives a fuck. We get to Mere’s place.
Me “Do you have change for a 20?”
Dumbass (lying) “No.”
Me “Well all I have is a 20 and 7 singles.”
Dumbass “I don’t have change.”
How does a cab driver, excuse me, “limo driver”, not have change?
Me “Are you sure you don’t want to check again for change?”
He sticks to his guns.
Dumbass “Don’t have any.”
Me “You realize if you break your lie now, you will be shamed, but you will also be getting 10 dollars instead of 7?”
Dumbass “Yes, I realize this. 7 dollars is fine.”
I’m not sure if this guy is incredibly proud or incredibly stupid, regardless, I give him the 7 singles and hop out. Once inside the dungeon, it is only a matter of seconds before I pass out. With only 1 day left, my goal of finding Danny Tanner is starting to feel more like a pipe dream. My 2nd goal for tomorrow is to find a place to shower, which I do miraculously attain through a string of alcohol induced lies.
Tags: Chronicles, san fran part 4, san francisco, the dumbass chronicles
