SF thru the bottom of a bottle

I am normally a very sober person.

Meaning that I am usually sober.

Friday, however, I was not.

It all started innocently enough at Zeitgeist, a biker bar on Valencia. It was a half day at work, and a beautiful half day at that-- perfect for celebrating a coworker's goodbye. We sat under the shady trees in the backyard patio, with a pink lemonade in one hand and a delicious freshly grilled cheeseburger in the other. We talked about work, we talked about rabbits, we talked about how fantastic these pink lemonades were. Who knew a vat of vodka could taste so good?

As we enjoyed our drinks, the weaker members of the group weeded themselves out. Back to the suburbs, or on to places that were more "their scene." The backyard began filling up with others and though our drinks had numbed our bums, the wood benches were getting kinda old. Those of us remaining decided that a change in venue would be a good idea... in fact, karaoke would be an excellent idea... So we hiked up our skirts and headed down Duboce to Market and a bar called The Mint.

It was early enough that we weren't going to hit the happy hour crowd, we didn't really want to deal with anything too terribly serious, and The Mint has a bit of a rep about it's seriousness. The Mint also has a rep for weak drinks, so upon tasting the vodka cran, heavy on the cran, we ordered our vodka straight. This may or may not have been the best idea in the history of ideas as this is when my memory starts to get a little sketchy. There was singing, as required by the karaoke aspect of the karaoke bar, there was much laughter, there was merriment. Things were fabulous. Everyone was having a good time. Everyone was all smiles. At one point we went outside and suddenly, as if by magic, the streets filled with cyclists. The world was a wonderful and crazy place filled with vodka and bicycles.

At some point we decided to move our party. I'm not sure why. It may or may not have been due to embarrassing antics on the karaoke stage. It may or may not have been due to someone falling on the ground. It may or may not have been due to the slow but steady fill up of other much less silly and fun patrons. It may have been due to the stories of a very attractive bartender down the street. I do not believe we were kicked out, I am fairly certain this was choice we made.

We floated in on giggles-- we materialized at Lucky 13. I do not remember the walk down Market St, I only remember stopping for laughter breaks. I am pretty sure that had there been a police presence, we would have been arrested. This is not my MO. This is not how I roll. But I was intoxicated, a.k.a. d-r-u-n-k-drunk drunk. Lucky 13 is a blur in my memory. I'm not sure if I can show my face there again. As far as I know I can. It seemed like a cool place, except that I had to hold the bathroom stall shut. There might have been a lock, but I couldn't find it.

We were there for a while before we realized we are hungry again. We headed out for pizza around the corner. Pizza is a magical food. It comforts you. It fills you up when you are empty. And this pizza was The Best Pizza I Have Ever Had. I am probably just saying that because I was drunk and anything would have been the Best Anything I Ever Had, but this pizza was seriously the best pizza ever.

Things were still kicking though, so we decided that we needed to do yet more karaoke. On to Encore in Nob Hill. We had to flag down a cab- which was not difficult. But a bevy of whores did steal our first one. I'm fairly certain they rigged the MUNI elevator to magically appear behind us, which was quite distracting as we were not expecting an elevator to suddenly appear behind us. They then hopped in our cab and drove off into the sunset.

But I'm not holding a grudge. Saying goodbye to someone you enjoy spending your days with is hard. Luckily we had alcohol to soothe our pain. And we were in The City, where you can just let go because you don't have to drive home, you can walk around the corner for pizza and more karaoke, and you can hail a cab on the street (as can whores).

I just wish I knew what happened to my watch.