Alright, I'm gonna have to go into the Way Back Machine, aka the What Happened More Than Two Weeks Ago machine for this one. Lucky that I put a title on a blank blog, or I'd probably have no idea what I'm writing about right now. We're looking at the weekend of the 14th, 15th and 16th of December.
Given that JMill was about to get out of his Google work, he was anxious to get out and about. He heard about a show at the Red Devil Lounge on Friday night that one of his friends was playing in. I figure it's a bar on Polk Street, can't be too horribly bad, why not give it a go? On the way there he tells me that the band is a Reggae band, and I inwardly cringe because really, just how many good white Reggae groups have you ever heard in your entire life? Ever? But the night is about to get interesting because he's got a group of friends that he regularly hangs out with, and to be honest with you, the Reggae is good. Like really good. Not as in I bought a CD and remember their name way, but in a I'm really impressed that I didn't want to vomit all over my shoes while listening to you type of way. So, big ups to that group.
The next day is the annual event known as SantaCon. For those not in the know, SantaCon is a Saturday that happens every December where just about everyone in the Bay Area dresses up in Santa or Elf costumes, gets blitzed out of their skulls and then goes bar-hopping around the city in the middle of the day. Now, for the revelers, this is always an extremely awesome event. I mean, have you ever danced with 100 other Santas in a bar while it's still daylight out? However, for the bartenders and the bouncers, this day sucks because you have a bunch of drunk idiots walking around before 4pm, trashing the bar, getting into various sorts of shenanigans and otherwise acting like they're hoping to be on the naughty list come Christmas.
I head up with JMill again and we meet up with MonSherm, a good lady friend of ours who, by my estimate, has been drinking since about 11AM. Wanna talk about an awesome bar party game? MonSherm has with her a stack of 3x5 notecards. On each notecard is a question, command or drinking game. She then goes around the bar handing these out to strangers. I'll tell you one thing: drunk people love this game. The minute one person gets a card, every person in their group wants a card too. I stick a card in my reindeer hat, and people are mesmerized trying to read it and then respond to it. All the while, following the rallying cry of "Let's get drunk and hit on elves," Mill disappears only to be spotted five minutes later dancing with some girl. Then five minutes after that making out with some other girl. Then five minutes later, buying a different girl a drink at the bar. And five minutes after that making out with her friend on the dance floor. All the while, I'm standing in a stupor watching this with an amazed expression on my face, as some chick in a Mrs. Claus outfit gets the entire bar's attention by throwing the guy she's with on a bench and then lap dancing him with the moves of what looks to be a stripper on speed.
A side note here: It's astounding that bouncers don't ever want to let me bring a backpack full of rum into a bar. I just don't get it.
After a few hours of this, we stop to refuel and it's about time to get over to my second party of the evening, a holiday party of ultimate frisbee people in the Mission. We eat a few burgers, MonSherm and JMill head back into the bars, and I begin the trek from Polk Street to the Mission by way of the crepe stand. I do all of this with the intention that I'll show up to the advertised 8pm party at about 8:45. This'll work because frisbee people are notoriously large partiers, so I figure by the time I get there almost an hour late, they'll be nearing my level of drunk. It's a "Non-Denominational Holiday Party," which is pretty much what every Jewish/Catholic/Christian/Hindu/Muslim group in San Francisco celebrates.
Just to be on the safe side, I take off my reindeer hat before ringing the door bell, at a door that sounds suspiciously quiet. And it's opened up by the host and her husband, who are still in their pajamas and not expecting anyone for another hour.
I like to call these Larry David moments. That moment when you do something so completely awkward without even knowing that you're doing it, and then have to deal with the consequences afterwards. So imagine me, drunk, so absolutely crazy thankful that I hid the reindeer hat in my backpack, wondering why I came so early and how long I'll have to wait before other people show up.
The situation isn't all downhill, however. The host is making potato latkes, a favorite of mine, and being the first one there means I get to eat as many as I want because no one will be around to tell me I'm eating all the latkes. Or getting fat eating all the latkes. About 40 minutes later, people do start to show up, and I pretend that I haven't eaten any latkes at all as the second batch comes out. All told, I eat somewhere in the range of 15 latkes before catching my BART home.
Just another December weekend in San Francisco.
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