From the Mixed up Files of Saturday Night


A girl dressed as a punk rock fairy streaked past me.  Her cotton-candy-pink tutu bounced up and down with each step.  Meanwhile, across the street, a pack of 20-something dudes hollered drunken obscenities to each other.  Their Mardi Gras beads clanked against their bare chests.  One of the topless dudes had thoughtfully scrawled “DTF?” across his torso in thick black letters.  I wondered if anyone would respond affirmatively to this question.  But hey, it was LoveFest, the annual techno/rave parade through the streets of downtown San Francisco, culminating in a mass  afternoon rave at Civic Center.  So, let’s be honest, who wasn’t going to be DTF? I applauded this kid’s manners.  Very polite of him — you know, asking first if anyone was down to fuck, and all.

It was 8pm.

I had missed the techno parade, the afternoon rave, and prancing around the streets of San Franciso half naked — but damnit if working a double-shift at the restaurant all Saturday was going to ruin my Saturday night! My feet were swollen, my body tired, but my fingers were itching to text.

So, I let them go to work and inquire what everyone was up to.  Little did I know that once unleashed, upon the night, those phalanges would be unstopable — texting everyone and everything on the contacts list of my cellphone [ed note: if you got one of those texts, hey, wasn’t that funny of me?]

First up, Katie: she had been at LoveFest all day.  What was she up to now?

Fucked up at my friends in the haight.

Oh.  Next was Chris, who had also been at LoveFest:

Home w ppl.  May be heading out soon.

This didn’t sound promising. Then Caitlin called: “Matt wants to go to a warehouse party.”  You had me at “warehouse party”.

As it turned out, Matt was still at work, and wouldn’t be out until 11.  Luckily, Kathryn had some free tickets to a green energy conference summit after-party at the Academy of Sciences Museum, so we decided to pre-game there, at the science museum, with fancy cocktails and science nerds before the warehouse party.

After the longest cab ride ever to Golden Gate Park, we rolled up outside the science museum.  We couldn’t get in because Roomie Madoff had our tickets, and she was off being drunk somewhere inside.  Peering into the museum, shivering in my tights and booties, I felt like that scene in Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, where the punk kids crash the country club party.  Except, instead of combat boots and leather jackets, we were wearing heels and wool coats.

Finally, Roomie Madoff darted from the museum to hand us our forged tickets.  She was exactly dressed like the sixth member of Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Band — yet, she also happened to be rocking a hair style straight out of Where the Wild Things Are.  Didn’t know this was possible? Neither did I. But oh, let me tell you, it is.

Dont try this hair style at home

Don't try this hair style at home

Once inside, Caitlin and I beelined it towards the bar, where they were serving green energy themed drinks like “Efficiency on the Beach.”  I got a Brilliantini, because a) It was fun to say and b) Maraschino cherries! Duh.  It’s like the decision made itself for me.  Then, we (or was that just I?) proceeded to get inappropriately drunk, and gaze at the floor to ceiling fish tanks in the aquarium section.  Kathryn had some YUPPY couple take our picture by the eel tank, and then she ended up befriending them.  Shrugging our shoulders, Caitlin and I ran back upstairs, found ourselves in some weird room with taxidermy antelopes and deer or something? Set in recreations of like, pre-historic times or something? While a DJ playing to a room of no one (literally) blasted your favorite Black Eyed Peas songs.  This was better than being on E at LoveFest (or so I imagined).

Then, the clock struck 11, and just like that, the lights flashed on, ushers began pulling elbows towards the doors, Efficiency on the Beaches were packed away, and “Let’s Get Retarded in Here” screeched to a stop.

“You know, that coach bus out front goes downtown to Civic Center.” Roomie Madoff pointed at a black charter bus parked at the entrance.

“Yeah, but are we allowed to take it if we weren’t part of the conference?” Kathryn scanned the line forming beside the bus.

“I mean, I’m sure you can take it.  It goes to Civic Center for free.”

You had me at “free.”  Caitlin, Kathryn and I darted down to our awaiting charriot.  Only, there was not nearly enough room for us all.  Towards the middle of the bus, there was a foursome of seats, set up so that they were facing each other.  There was one empty chair.  Across the aisle, there was another foursome with an empty chair.  I sat in one of the empty chairs, and Kathryn sat in the other across the aisle. Caitlin sat on the armchair of my seat.

“Heyyy! I’m Meredith!” I shouted at the three-some sitting in our nook.  I then proceeded to force reluctant introductions out of the rest of our nookmates.  I then proceeded to promptly forget all of their names, but I knew we were about to be best friends.

“There are too many people on dis bus!” A heavily accented voice barked.  It was the bus driver.  A chubby Asian man with a pizza face full of old acne scars.

“Everyone must have seat!” He yelled again.

“Quick, Caitlin, squeeze into this chair.” I whispered.

“One person per seat! One person per seat! Some have to leave! We can’t leave until one person per seat!”

And then, an annoying lady, who nobody nominated to stand up and open her big fat mouth, decided to stand up and open her big fat mouth.

“If you don’t get off the bus, we can’t leave.  And then we’re ALL going to miss BART!” She yelled, pointing her finger straight at Caitlin, Kathryn, and me.

“If you don’t have a seat, get off!” She barked.

“Yeah! Get off the bus!” Some people echoed.  Everyone turned and stared.

Back on the curb of the science museum, Caitlin, Kathryn, and I wondered how we were going to get home.

“I’m surprised everyone on that bus just let you guys get off like that.  More guys should have gotten off!” Someone behind us commented.

“Yeah, like, women and children first!” I agreed.

“Yeah!” Caitlin and Kathryn agreed, turning to our new friends.  Our new friends were a Silver Fox inexplicably carrying a razor scooter, and his much younger, blood shot eyes friend.  Apparently they were forced off the bus too.  We all shook our heads in disgust as the bus pulled away.  In the distance, some jackasses on bicycles were doing stupid human tricks on their bikes.  They cycled past us, then jumped off the curb.  It was Roomie Madoff and her boyfriend.  Of course it was.  Why wouldn’t it have been? Typical.

Then a stretch limo pulled up.

“Up! There’s our ride!” Caitlin joked.  The door swung open.  A head peeked out.

“Do you need a ride?”

“Excuse me?” Kathryn called out.

“Do you need a ride? We’ll take you wherever you need to go!”

You had me at “stretch limo.”

And, that’s how we ended up hitching a ride in a stretch limo with a man (literally) twice my age carrying a razor scooter, his 28 year old friend with bloodshot eyes, and a middle aged couple.

Upon being deposited back in North Beach, Caitlin, Kathryn, and I decided to head back to my apartment to drink more before going out.  Laughing, riding, and cornholing, we were in the midst of making fun of the 46 year old with the scooter (why did he have a scooter?) when we heard footsteps behind us.  It was Russ — or was it Ross? The 28 year old with bloodshot eyes.  He was trying to meet up with some friends on Bryant street.

“That is nowhere near here.” I told him. “But you can come with us anyway.” And that’s how a strange man with bloodshot eyes ended up drinking rum and diet cokes in my sun room with us.

“My friends would love you!” He kept cooing at Caitlin.  And, whenever one of us would say something that he found funny, he’d say, “aren’t you the cutest thing?”

Somehow, we got to talking about dimensions.

“Maybe, that’s like, the 4th dimension?” I reasoned, about something that I do not remember.

“No, time’s the 4th dimension.” Kathryn corrected me.

“Nooo, time’s the 3rd dimension.” I rolled my eyes knowingly.

“No, time’s the 4th.” Ross/Russ corrected me. “It’s okay, you’re cute, you don’t have to be smart.”  A back-handed compliment so back-handed, it’s actually just an insult.

“Joke’s on you, Ross, I AM smart!” I pushed my rum and diet Coke across the table.

“Russ.” Russ corrected me.

Matt was still at work, the warehouse party was not going to happen, and we were starting to get restless.  So we all marched out into the freezing night.  Caitlin handed me a cigarette.

“Oh, don’t smoke!” Russ exclaimed.  I ignored him, and took Caitlin’s lighter.  I ignited it, but the flame flickered out. I ignited it again.

“You smoke?”  The flame flickered out, again.

“Russ, I work in a restaurant, okay?” I responded, as though this was a legit excuse. [ed note: you know what? It is.  I only smoke before work at the restaurant…okay, and sometimes when we go out. Apparently.] I ignited the lighter.

“Don’t smoke.” He put his head close to mine. The flame flickered out.

“Watch me.” I responded, flicking the lighter on. The flame quickly flickered out.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” Flame flickered on.

“Because I can’t kiss a girl who smokes.” Flame flickered out.

“Well then don’t.” Flame flickered on.  His face was really close to mine.  Flame flickered out. I moved away from him, but he followed me.

“Why does this lighter keep going out?” My forehead bumped into his.

“You can’t tell what I’m doing?” He pulled me closer.  That fucker had been blowing out the flame this entire time!

“Fuck you!” I slapped him across the face, then ran to catch up with Caitlin and Kathryn.

Kathryn had decided she wanted some pizza, so we braved the shitshow that is the line outside of Golden Boy Pizza, so that way she could order two slices.  Meanwhile, I tried to convince two boys to pay me a dollar for one of Caitlin’s cigarettes.

Somehow, we found a bar that would let us eat our take-out pizza at the bar, so we plunked ourselves down and gorged ourselves on the most succulent cheesy balls of grease one has ever drunkenly shoved in their mouths.  Then, the bar was closing, we could not take a hint, and we got kicked out.  But the night was young, it was only 2 o’clock! What could we do?

Oh, I knew! There was a bar around the corner, who’s bartender we had befriended against his will one night.  You see, when he met Caitlin and me he hated us because he assumed that we must be Yuppies based on where we live.  This was rude, he was kind of cute, naturally, this meant that we had to seduce him.  Does this story sound familiar? Well, you can read about our first encounter with Ubber Hipster here. We legit befriended him a few weeks ago though, when Uber Hipster decided to be nice to us because he thought he was going to hook up with Caitlin, but then she surprised us all by not, and making out with his friend instead.  Anyway, it seemed totally reasonable that U. H. would let us into his bar.  Orrrr not…The bar appeared to be locked, but there were lots of people inside.  There was music blasting.  So, I decided to pound on the door.

The door swung open.

“Who did that?”

I stepped behind an obeese Asian man taking out some trash.  Caitlin pointed at the obeese Asian man taking out some trash.  We are such shits.

“Hey! Remember us?” I stepped in front of the door.

“Yeah.  I forget your names.”

“Can we come in?”

“No. Absolutely not. We’re closed.” Door slammed in my face.

After that, Russ decided he should probably get back to his place, he took our numbers, and we all hugged goodbye like old friends.

As we walked up the hill to Caitlin’s apartment, I reflected upon our situation: “so, remember, how we weren’t sure whether or not we could go back to that bar?”

“Yeah…” Caitlin’s voice trailed off uncertainly.

“Well, now we definitely can’t go back to that bar.”

“Oh, no way.  No, no, way.” Caitlin nodded her head sagely.  A silence passed.

“Oh, and, who the fuck was Russ?”

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