San Francisco Sexual Adventures Part Three – The Black Hangover, The Mexican Tour and The Alcoholic Museum
I woke up feeling like shit. I stumbled into the bathroom and vomited. Twice. Three times.
I pushed down the flush, but the water didn’t evacuate. The toilet filled up to the top with water and the contents of my stomach, pushing the black gunk to the top of the bowl. I hoped that wasn’t my stomach lining. Maybe Guinness just looks like that on the way up.
“Hey mate, how are you feeling?” said Aster as I walked out of the toilet.
“Like a hot turd that’s been stepped on.”
“Really? I feel great.” Aster’s stomach had turned to solid granite after two years of solid drinking. “I was still ready for more when we got back.”
We’d tried to get into a club at 1:50. All the clubs in SF shut at 2. I think all the clubs in California do. The bouncer just sent us straight back out. Then we got chased by the police for drinking in public.
We decided to do some touristy stuff. The cheapest bus tour we could find was in a beaten-up double decker bus, right hand drive – it must have been imported from London for that authentic “cheap as you can get it” feel. It had a door cut into the right side, made of galvanised iron, with nothing but a slide lock to hold it shut. The original passenger door was at the front left and would lead you directly into passing traffic if you were to use it.
The bus driver was a rotund Mexican. Halfway through the ride, his PA broke, so every stop he had to come up the stairs and tell us the notable things to see.
“This church is famous for one reason. It is the scene where Whoopi Goldberg was filmed in the Sister Act movies. Sister Act One AND Sister Act Two, starring Whoopi Goldberg.”
I got a text from Taylor “Hey sorry to be the rude one. I passed out. I literally got your text just now.”
The last text I’d sent her was “How rude.” Aster had to stop me from unleashing a textual drunken tirade of sexually frustrated words, which I yelled out onto the streets of San Francisco instead.
“That’s funny,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d hear from her again after last night.” Normally when I mess things up with a girl, I burn it to the ground. Though it’s not normally with anger, just with rugged persistence.
I went to meet Taylor at a museum. They checked our IDs as we went in. “What kind of museum needs to check your ID?”
“The kind that serves alcohol.”
I don’t know how they can have so much alcohol in a museum and not have serious problems. I guess they did have a “No drinks past this point” sign before the open top aquarium with the albino alligator in it. Maybe that’s all they need to stop drunks in America. I didn’t drink because I was too hung over.
We missed out on the planetarium and the rainforest exhibit, but we did see some fucked up looking fish.
I sat down with Taylor in the atrium.
“So what are you doing tomorrow night?”
“I’m thinking of going to Fresno.”
“Fresno? Why the hell would you want to go to Fresno?”
“To see a girl I met in Vegas.” Creanza. It was her birthday party and she really wanted me to come. Fresno is directly between SF and LA. I could just catch the train inbetween instead of flying to LA.
“You should stay here in San Francisco.”
“Maybe. We told some guy from San Francisco lair that we’d go hit some clubs with him tomorrow night. Have to watch out for those lair guys though, they can be nerdy closet dwellers.”
“What’s a lair?”
“You know, like a pick-up organisation.” Surely she knows this stuff. She’s Spesh’s cherish. He’s out there in Vegas teaching guys to pick up. She must know.
“Oh. I thought you meant like a role-playing gang. Those guys that get together in mediaeval clothes and swordfight.”
“Haha LARPers?”
“Yeah, I really want to meet one.” Did she understand what I said about lairs and disregard it? Or did it go completely over her head? Or maybe she preferred to pretend she didn’t hear it.
We went back to Taylor’s place for a while.
“Fresno? Why would you want to go to Fresno?” said Jaime. “I used to stay there with my hockey team. All I remember is one road with three dirty fast food restaurants on it. It’s nasty.”
“If it’s so bad, why would 2pac shout it out in a song?”
No one had an answer to that.
I was starving and I virtually had to push Taylor out the door to get some food. We dived into the first Mexican restaurant we saw. The food was really good. I got a Corona to go with it.
“Oh so you’re drinking now?”
“Sure, now that I’ve nursed my hangover.”
The waitress brought out a sangria which came free with my meal.
“So not only are you drinking, you’re doublefisting?”
“Whoa. I don’t think we know each other well enough to be doublefisting, but thanks for the offer.”
She slapped my arm and laughed.
I tried to pull Taylor back to her place. We got to the corner on Mallorca and Taylor just didn’t want to let me come in. But I’m persistant. Too persistant. I wish I’d just walked away.
“Stay in San Fran then we’ll see.” She said, almost angrily. “Now go.”
I walked away. I went back to the hotel and went to sleep.
Related Posts:
Comments (2)
so should i go to SF, find this broad, and give her the evil eye (because i’m too much of a pussy to fight) for making you not come to good ol fresburg to see me?
Anyone who’s only driven through Fresno just sees the crappy farms. They be hatin.
[Reply]
[...] Continued – San Francisco Sexual Adventures Part Three – The Black Hangover, The Mexican Tour and The Alcoholic …. [...]