In San Fran

First trip to San Fran, first trip to Cali, first trip to the Left Coast

Too scared to stay outside the financial district,

my pussy wasn’t ready for that cherry pop

I like to hang around the less smelly creatures when I travel to big cities,

That whole piss, patchouli dread-locked stink doesn’t appeal to my golden spoon upbringing.

San Fran is a different breed;

More Asians than you could throw a noodle at

More homeless than New York

More trendy than Miami

Oddly polite, like how white people treat other white people in the deep south

Did the good society thing and went to the SFMOMA and stared at some cool artwork with meanings I will never understand

After that, Wifey and I started drinking at the Hyde Out, a local bar with plenty of flavor;

Russian bar tender, hipsters playing dominoes while drinking local, craft beer, surprisingly friendly, oddly friendly, I could be a good drunk in San Fran, the locals make it so easy

Had our fill, then off to the Tonga Room in pursuit of Anthony Bourdain’s footsteps, got lost inside a cocktail that I think I saw on that one episode of the Brady Bunch when they were in Hawaii

It was called a Zombie, and yes, it fucking worked

Stumbled out and saw Frasier’s wife Lilith leaving the Fairmont getting into a BMW SUV,

Damn, she even looks like a bitch in person; sad because she’s probably a saint and does a lot of charity shit, but I will always remember how bad she fucked with Frasier, remember how she drove him to that bar stool every fucking day

Chinese New Year Parade blocked us in to a small section of restaurants, damn the Asians are everywhere; firecrackers, weird-ass dragon costumes, like a terrible acid dream, at least I was taller than most of them

San Fran gets a giant, opposable thumbs up from me, I will go back.


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