San Fiasco, California Pt. 1

I’m not sure there’s going to be anything exciting about this blog except for the mildly amusing title. I came out here on short notice to hang out with my friend James, only to find out that his flights from Minnesota were canceled. Delta gave him a ticket to fly out of Minneapolis if he was willing to drive down there. He did, only to face white out conditions and had to turn back. He texted me the “good” news with a video. Unfortunately, WordPress wants me to pay $59 a year for the privilege of posting said video. Here’s a still instead.

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That’s pretty grim looking. Gotta give him credit for trying, most people I know wouldn’t have even bothered. Now I’m on my own in The City. It’s a cool city, to be sure. Everyone is fit and good looking, since no one that lives here seems to drive. They just run, walk, bike, bus, etc all over this crazy hilly town. I feel woefully unfashionable and fat in my Reno threads. Like I was the sole survivor of the good ship lollipop and I ate all the passengers.

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So the bar it is! I go to Fly, which is right next door to the hotel. It’s a happy hour bar, 12:00 to 6:30! Not to say that’s the only time their open, it’s just when the drinks are priced to move. They’ve got pizza too!

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I order a Kentucky Dropkick and then a Swearin’ Sailor. Both excellent, both boozy as hell. Each $5, which seems reasonable for a city like SF that usually fleeces the tourist set.

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In comes these two guys that sit next to me. One is a young white office worker looking dude, the other is some tight shirt wearing Brazilian male model or something. The white guy just sits there and talks and talks and talks about the office chicks that keep fucking with him and blowing him off. The other dude never says anything, just sits there exuding cologne fumes like a Union Carbide disaster in Bopal, only instead of killing us all, it just makes us all randy. Ok, maybe not. Sounded funny. I finished off my drinks so I could make it to the free wine tasting at my hotel at 6:30. Well, it turns out it was from 5:30 to 6pm. DAMNIT!!!!! So, food it is. I go to Saha, the the hotel’s restaurant.

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An Arabic fusion joint. It has a pleasant atmosphere and it seems a lot of the local Arabic folks eat here. That’s a damn good endorsement, if you ask me.

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I ordered one of the specials, a small plate of sushi grade Ahi encrusted with herbs and spices with a dollop of what I assume is Harissa. Also got a medium bodied wine. I was already well on my way to being tanked.

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20130419-151129.jpgAnd that’s not all. Next up…duck in a cardamom sauce with mashed sweet potatoes and a poached pear. Fanfuckingtastic!!!

20130419-151345.jpgThe waitress was awesome and all her suggestions were spot on perfect. The only thing left to do was make an ass of myself. How about throwing a full $10 glass of wine across the table. That’ll do the trick.

20130419-151638.jpgTime to pay the bill and get the fuck out! My work is done here!

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If you’re not paying too much, you’re doing it wrong!

Off to the Amsterdam.

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Great selections of beers, but I chose some kind of IPA that tasted like I was sucking on a rusty nail. Oh, well. This bar is full of super skinny hipsters in skinny jeans and goofy hi-tops. Time to move on. I’m pretty well lit by the time I head out. I use Yelp to find somewhere else. At this point I have no idea what I chose. It was a mile away and I had no friggin clue where I was and where I was going. A drunken adventure!

Now for the fucking rant against technology! I love San Francisco. It’s got the best 3G service I’ve used since getting an iPhone. Sprint’s service in Reno is like using a telegraph, or at best Edge network…eeewwww! Anyway, I try to use Apple Maps to get walking directions to where Yelp was sending me. I try to orient the damn pointer on the map to get me going in the right direction, but the fucking compass always needs to be reoriented. I gotta wave my arms around like an idiot to give the damn thing a clue. As far as I can tell, if you put the maps app into walking mode, Siri can’t be bothered with you anymore. And it seems the app doesn’t want to stay running in the background as you hike the 1000 feet to the next street. You have to keep the fucker open and held in front of you. Every time you wake the phone up, it forgets it was in the middle of giving you directions. WTF? You then click on the directions button again and it defaults to driving directions. FUCK! I gave up on the goddamned thing. Screw it. I kept walking.

I came across a black building. No sign and no windows. Just music from a live band coming from behind a black door. Intriguing. I go in. It’s just a bar. Bunch of people standing around as a pretty mellow band plays on the small stage. I get stopped by the doorman. He’s got a huge impressive beard and a black leather vest. He says $10 cover! I say “$10! Really? On a Thursday night?” He looks around and asks me “Are you gonna watch the band or just hang out?” Uh…hang out, I guess. He checks my ID, stamps my wrist, and sends me on my way. Ha! Some rigid door rules at this place. It’s a small joint, until I spot the door to the smoking patio. It was twice the size of the damn bar! Dozens of people out there smoking and chatting and drinking away. Ha! Turned out to be a fun little bar. The two bands were not your usual bar bands. The music was mellow and not face-melting punk rock music! Thank god for that. I was HAMMERED at this point. Practically drooling in my outstanding Manhattan. It was 1:30am and I needed to go. I bought an album…not a CD, but an vinyl album. How cool is that. Here’s the band playing the last song of their set. It’s a terrible sound recording, but at least it’s a steady shot. Not bad for being stupid drunk.

Alright. I’ll leave it here for now. I’ll write up part 2 later tonight. I need to get out and do something.

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About heartajack

I'm a graphic designer and occasional filmmaker that recently discovered the awesomeness that is the Can-Am Spyder Roadster. In recent years I've become obsessed with food and learning how to prepare it. I make the best damn ribs...EVER.
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One Response to San Fiasco, California Pt. 1

  1. Squid says:

    Excellent 🙂

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