Quinine Hangover
Yesterday, Doug took the three of us (via bus, rather than Zipcar) 'round to Cliff House...not to eat, just to hike around a bit near the site of demolished public pool-type building from the 40s, and then out to Land's End point. In the photo, Doug is the one who is not us.
Little did Doug know what was in store for him later that evening, after we had eaten pasta-type things near Green Street. The original plan was to head over to the Mission district, but we ended up leaving the restaurant late, so we hung around a couple of local bars. The first was the sort of place that I couldn't stand even when I was drinking: loud, small, crowded, hot. So we moved on, along with Doug's friends Erin and Helen, to another place that was somewhat less less loud, small, crowded, and hot. Whereupon much cider, magararita, and Guinness ensued. By the time Doug began to realize that he was in the presence of two Brits who dwell in alcohol in much the same way that fish dwell in water, it was too late. Immediately after he confided to me that his plan was to wait them out, as last call was only half an hour away, Tom showed up with three Jaegermeister shots, one of which he smacked down between Doug's half-empty pint of Guinness and the full one next to it. Doug's resistance crumbled.
At some point in the evening, Tom left to hit the pisser, and returned draped around a couple of Irish strangers. As it turned out, the male portion of the couple was wearing a shirt emblazaoned with West Ham United's badge. This was an occasion, then, for an enthusiastic rendition of a song which was beyond my American comprehension. The pair tottered off elsewhere, and eventually the evening ground down as attrition sent Erin and Helen home and a gaggle of Berkeley girls showed up, apparently so that Doug could demonstrate his psychic abilities.
In the end, everyone made it back to where they were supposed to be, carefully stepping up the city's hills. Today, we'll be heading to a barbecue down by the Marina.
Only a couple of more days here, then.
But: I get to come back!
