North Beach.
The bar was made up of a pair of long, narrow spaces connected by a poorly demolished hole in the center of the wall. The front room was filled with the human debris that tends to accumulate in an unassuming hole in the wall along with the hipsters that seem to gravitate toward them. We quickly brushed our way into the other room to catch the band.
Old man rock bands always attract the same crowd: grizzled fifty year old couples who actually remember the music, can’t stop talking about the old shows and rock out accordingly; forty year old couples who are trying to stay relevant in the face of middle age by going to a show, wear young clothes but are too afraid of young people to go anywhere else; and thirty year old couples and singles that hide from the all-too glaring reality that they’re rapidly turning into the first two camps by constantly referencing the “irony” that the cover band itself.
Alan and I rushed the stage to try and high five the band in the middle of a half-assed Def Leppard song, but soon got crowded out by a group of shitfaced couples that were fist pumping and singing the wrong words as loud as they could. We migrated to the bar. The drinks were cheap. I found myself fumbling all over the bar with money trying to pay for a round and the bartender gave me the dirty that said it was time to leave.
We headed out onto the street and started walking downhill. A couple strip club bouncers tried to lure us into their club, but after an awkward amount of discussion Alan and I decided the fifteen dollar cover was too rich for us. The streets were full of people, and we let the crowds take us in their flow until Alan suddenly stopped in front of a bar that was only lit in blue.
“Dude, I know this spot.” Alan was only sort of looking in my direction, which made me feel much more comfortable about my own rapidly deteriorating sobriety. “I came here with a bunch of sorority hookers one night. You know that girl Ashley Dies? She kept trying to get me to rack blow off her tits in the bathroom.” I did, and she was far enough out of my reach for me to admit I was impressed.
The front door was locked, but the place was packed, so we walked around the back and went in through the service entrance. It was extremely dark inside, but I could still make out the faces of the people inside. They didn’t seem particularly friendly.
“What the fuck. Is everyone staring at us?” Alan whispered.
“Yeah, I’m getting vibed out. Whatever, it’s probably ‘cause we walked in the back. Let’s just go order drinks.”
We sidled up to the bar and Alan ordered shots, which seemed to confuse the bartender. A cute older girl next to me asked if I wanted a slice of pizza, holding most of a pie that had been passing around in her hand. My confusion confused her, and soon Alan and I were standing with shots forgo
tten in our hands as everyone in our general proximity looked at us like we were foreign. I had no fucking idea what was going on. A stern-looking guy finally worked up the courage to talk to us and started walking over towards us, and I gave Alan the look that said we might have to run.
