I walked outside of Fuse, a bar in North Beach, to look for a purse that was stolen off the back of my friend Mandy's chair. I figured that it was possible for someone to take the wallet out and ditch the bag. A 15-20 person brawl was underway in front of a club across the street. As it ended, men were tearing off their shirts and flexing their muscles. I wondered what the fight was about. There was no lack of passion.
The bag wasn't found. Everyone at the bar seemed to know each other, since it was a vampire themed party and that type of thing tends to draw a similar crowd each time a bar decides to host bands such as Vagabondage and Vagiant. It doesn't draw a threatening "I'm going to come to steal a purse" type of crowd.
The music was horrible.
2 abandoned PBRs later, I find myself in the most fascinating social realm, the late night San Francisco bus. I could write a book on my interactions while riding this bus. My favorite conversation from last night's ride was the cross-bus yelling type, a rarity. A SF via Memphis transplant announces to me that everyone on the bus is crazy and that he has "yellow fever," a term that I later learn to mean an attraction to Asian women.
Like any beautiful, invigorating moment, the bus ride ended. I stayed up until 6:00AM watching Sportscenter and infomercials while drinking into an oblivion.
I needed a pleasant night.
