Roomie's First Night Out

When I tell the new Roomie to get her game face on for Saturday night, she’s a bit confused. Then I explain that game face is code for partying and on means on. She's still confused. Then I explain that for her first night out in the city of SF, we're going to go big and never go home. We start early by her tender East Coastian standards, heading up to a poker night by the Cow Palace at Coach’s fiancée’s place. There, I’m introduced to the wonders of Wii Boogie and some concoction made of ginger beer and tequila. It’s a positive start to the evening to be sure.

From the poker party, where Roomie gets her kicks videotaping me Wii dancing, we head up to the city, park by Bar None and head into Bus Stop for a quick refresher before meeting up with Topher, ChengJ, Foster, SG and Boil (obviously not the correct spelling there). The ride from the poker party to the city has sobered us a bit, and the unnaturally strong drinks Bus Stop tenders like to pour puts us right back in our place. She asks me if 10 is too early to be making out in the bar. I think she’s getting fresh with me until I realize she’s talking about the two people across the bar who are exploring each other’s throats with their tongues. We hop a cab and head to the housewarming party.

There we drink keg beer. Well, I drink keg beer, Roomie doesn’t. We use this time as an extension of the pre-party before we move to City. There, the bartender isn’t Chris, and the jackass won’t let me in and out of the window for J smoking. At one point, he physically grabs me by the shirt and tells me not to come in the window. I’d blow pot smoke right in that bastard’s face, if I had been smoking some. Regardless of the positive press ChengJ gives this new guy, I think he sucks, and he severely cut into my good time last night for about the two minutes surrounding that incident. We kill some more drinks there, and Roomie thinks that the evening is about to come to a close. I tell her we’re now done with phase 1.

We hit the street outside City and Jacks gives me a call to tell me to meet her down at 14th and Mission. We get down there, yet no Jacks. I call her back. “Oh, my bad, I meant 14th and Valencia.” Oops. We’re walking down the street as I’m looking for her and Roomie, who has met her one time, spots her for us. We cruise into Beauty Bar where dancing ensues. Contrary to her previous indications, Roomie can dance. I guess it just takes a few to get her there. While the crowd in Beauty is thick enough that dancing is more like moving your joints in a square foot of space, there's not a rug in that place that we don't cut. Outside in the street, after dancing problem free the entire night, I take a few quick dance hops into the street and find my left ankle kissing the concrete as I’ve managed to dance hop myself into the wrong end of a pothole. So much for that recovery I’ve been working on.

I’m not quite sure how we get from Beauty Bar to Jacks’ place to pass out, but I think it involves a cab. I’m not really sure because I don’t have any pictures to tell the story for me. As I’m falling asleep, I hear conversations revolving around a cat that will steal my soul if it sits on my chest and corned beef hash. Somehow this translates into the idea to feed a cat corned beef hash, but this is confusion and pot smoke in Jacks' loft at 2:30 am, so what do you expect?

Roomie’s first night out on the town in SF is chronicled here in pictures for all to see. It must have been ok because she keeps talking about how much fun she had, but then again, maybe she just doesn't want me to feel bad, or that could have had something to do with the alcoholic beverage Katie fed us at Nini’s this morning. One thing’s for sure…I need to buy a blow up mattress for the apartment, for a variety of reasons all brought to my attention in beautiful detail last night. I also need to always wear an ankle brace when I go out drinking, dance on a more regular basis with Jacks and continue meeting Roomie’s high expectations of fun times with even higher results.

I’m so happy right now I could dance. If my ankle wasn’t the size of a softball. Next stop: Lake House.

Pictures: The crew at City (notice how thrilled Foster is that I'm taking the picture), Jacks at Beauty, Roomie and I triumphant and heroic, Roomie showing me how to get my hair did, and for some reason the majority of the pictures I have with Jacks involve her in the street. Weird.