Note the reflection of my iPod in the upper left corner.
Meeting the boys @ the 21st Amendment in SF, Saturday. Rooster, Paul, me, Mason (in Fresno State cap).
Paul, me and Sean Sunday night @ Candlestick Park.
Sean and Paul early Sunday morning @ the Pacific Heights Inn.
Rooster, Sean and Paul @ Candlestick.
Amazing time. I love my buddies. I really do have the best friends in the world--Mason, Sean, Paul and Rooster--and this past weekend in San Francisco with these guys, it was just awesome.
Paul and I drove up--yes, we DROVE. We just threw our shit in the car, put the iPod on shuffle and hit the road.
Cut to Saturday, noon. The 21st Amendment, on Second Street, just up from SBC Park. Beer, calamari, onion rings, more beer. And then more beer.
Then it was off to find a hotel. This was the part of the trip that we looked like dorky tourists, even though two of us are former SF city dwellers. There we were, idiots driving around in circles, a caravan of four vehicles. It was pretty comical. Mercifully, it didn't take us long to find the Pacific Heights Inn, and then we jetted over to the Bayside Bar on Union Street, which became the staging ground for the first of our adventures.
Now, keep in mind that there were three football games we were interested in. One, the Big Game, Cal and Stanford, which Cal won, 27-3. Go Bears. Game Two was the Fresno State/USC game. Who cares? This was big for us because Rooster, Sean, Mason and I are Fresno State alums. I'll be honest and tell you that I don't really remember when Sean arrived--sometime during the third quarter, I think--from a wedding in South San Francisco. He was my little fraternity brother in Lamdba Chi.
Anyway, 'SC won 50-42, but I'll tell you, FSU played well enough to win. They said it couldn't be done. But it almost was. Even better we were gentlemen and refrained from getting into fights with these USC assholes sitting right next to us, who made dumb comments about FSU being just 'a public school.'
Post Bayside Rooster was tired. And I don't blame him. He's just not a night person anymore and with good reason, those strange hours he works. So with Rooster retired for the evening the rest of us hailed a cab and ended up at the Balboa Cafe, which I understand is partly owned by SF Mayor Gavin Newsome.
We walk in and I'm standing at the bar--and I remember this really well, because it was right there, at that moment, that I stepped out of my drunken haze--and Sean hands me a kamikaze and a Bass Ale, some of which I spilled because this HOT drunk girl grabbed my arm because she recognized me from the Bayside. Kristy--a USC fan--expressed concern for me because of the emotional loss my team had just suffered at the hands of those spoiled private school brats and managed to console me with some extremely nice kisses in full view of my drunk buddies.
Rooster--my season is ON, Dude!
We closed down the Balboa Cafe and it was into another cab and onto the search for a late night snack. We just kinda went in circles because the cabbie was pretty clueless and because of 3AM traffic but somehow we ended up at this really old diner. And since we were so full of booze we really needed to find a bathroom. So as we're walking in to the diner we're told that the men's restroom is downstairs.
So Sean and I go down this long, old, rickety set of stairs into this maze, this labyrinth of hallways. It was really strange. You know, it reminded me of that scene in 'The Shining' when Jack Nicholson was looking for Shelly Duvall. Sean and I were just opening doors at random. We never did find the bathroom.
Back upstairs, we couldn't find anyone to take our order either, so we left and went across the street to Jack In The Box.
Mason, another one of our Lambda Chi brothers, another Sean and I have a long and rich history of eating Jack In The Box tacos--the three of us could put away 30,40 tacos at a sitting--and since we'd been joking around about Jack tacos all weekend, it was fitting that we ended up there at the end of a long day of killing brain cells.
I got a bag of ten tacos, expecting to share with the guys. Instead I gave some of my food to a homeless guy. Hey! There's Compassionate Conservatism in action, baby!
Mason said it best. We drank for 15 hours straight and lived to tell about it. You know the feeling. That mix of sleep deprivation, alcohol poisoning and beer farts. We're too old for this shit.
Game three was the Seahawks/49ers game on Sunday. Paul and I met former 49er linebacker stud Keena Turner. We had great seats. Actually, come to think of it, these were the same damn seats we had last year, too. Anyway, great game with Seattle prevailing 27-25. And those 49ers cheerleaders!! At halftime, Steve Young was inducted into the 49er Hall of Fame (ahead of his induction into the Pro Football H.O.F.) and the crowd was really rowdy, everybody was throwing beer (shameful AND wasteful) and peanuts and there was a bunch of fights. Typical Candlestick Park stuff.
Next year we're all meeting in L.A. Something about a Dodger game...