A naked guy was standing outside.
Inside, guys and girls (and everyone in between) in various states of dress were doing anything but standing. Dancing, drinking, grabbing, gabbing, groping, hoping...
Ahh, the Castro.
After spending the day at the MOMA, Chinatown, and pizza at Zachary's with my friends from Berkeley, Tie and Tee, we crossed the bay again and landed at Badlands, which had a long line and a $2 cover.
"Seeeeeee," I moaned. "People on the streets. Lines to get into bars. No parking. This is a real city!!"
I like San Diego, and I have no regrets about moving back, but once in a while I yearn for the personality and 24hr pulse (and traffic and gridlock and exhilarating, tooth gritting frustrations) of New York, SF, Paris and the like...
Inside, we ordered drinks and hit the dancefloor.
At one point, I set my drink on a table within eyesite, and the next thing I knew, a waiter came by and picked up half the cups.
Including my vodka tonic.
I wiggled my way back to the bar and asked for a replacement, after explaining someone took my drink.
"WHO took your drink?" the bartender asked through the music. But I think he would have raised his voice anyway. Is this a typical ploy for free alcohol or something?
"A waiter -- He picked up some of the glasses on a table, and he took mine. It was still half full."
"FINE. Then I'll make you half a drink."
"That's fair."
He made me a whole one, anyway.
When I set it down again to dance -- somewhere else this time -- it disappeared again 10 seconds after I glanced away. This time, no waiter to be seen. Hmmm...
Gained: A drink, lost and found, then lost again.
