Welcome to the second installment of My Marina Experience. (If you missed part 1 please read the previous post before indulging in this tasty morsel.) This addition takes a close look at my favorite creatures (the marina guy and girl) in their natural habitat. I stepped into their mecca, barely able to make it out alive. This is the unabridged version of how I survived. Now without further adu I bring you:
The Marina Experience: Is there fart scented candles in here?
City Tavern
Neighborhood: Marina/Cow Hollow
3200 Fillmore St (between Greenwich St & Moulton St)
San Francisco, CA 94123 (415) 567-0918
City Tavern
Neighborhood: Marina/Cow Hollow
3200 Fillmore St (between Greenwich St & Moulton St)
San Francisco, CA 94123 (415) 567-0918
I took Friday night off from the world. After the Marina Experience; Did you say subway sandwich Jared? addition I needed a mental and physical break. The amount of male testosterone projectile vomiting across that district is exhausting to dodge. Thank god I stayed in because little did I know I would be spending night #2 a spitting distance from night #1.
Earlier in the day my girlfriend Lindsay got a text from a gentleman caller saying that he is in town with 12 of his friends and they want to meet up. Talk about taking candy from a baby. I mean 12 guys vs. me and her, their doomed! I eat my Wheaties, put my Marina uniform on (skinny jeans/sparkly stilettos/a black tube top that barely contains my nipples let alone my mams/ glitter), and catch the bus. I have to say, I love taking the 43 Masonic bus to the Marina. It is a delicious mixture of dirty hippies coming from Haight and fake blonde haired bitches going to their mecca. I lucked out and got the saucy bitches. Score! I don't remember word for word (who really can stand to hear fingers on a chalk board) but the gist of their conversation was about how poorly they treated others when they were growing up. *Pause: Now I know I can say some pretty mean things due to the fact that I am dead inside, but ladies....to hold a sort of contest of who treated a person the worst, come on. That is not even something that I would do. And you all were fat, so.....
I finally arrive to Fillmore after what seemed hours of listening to the Lucifer's of the world praising each other. My night didn't start until a bit later (11 o'clock) so when I stepped out into the world the sloppy slutty soldiers were hard at work. (this refers to both the males and females forms) After side-stepping some of the worst 'pick-up' verbal diarrhea I have heard in awhile, I arrived at my destination. Now, I don't know if any of you have been to City Tavern but if you are a man and not wearing a stripped shirt with a roofie in your pocket or if you a woman not wearing the uniform and ready to go home with pretty much any guy, well your tour ends here. I, of course, am always wearing the districts uniform and always ready to go home with any number of eligible bachelors, so my access was granted.
Within moments I was swimming in a sea of strips. Fortunately, since it was Fleet Week I got the rare opportunity to see these strips go into battle royale mode with a bevy of white (It was like West Side Story up in here. But way gayer). A word to the wise, gentleman, you will never win when up against a sailor.
Not because they are stronger, in fact the ones at the bar looked like the pre-pubescent sloth from the Goonies. Not because they are less desperate, pretty sure after getting man-on-man action on the high seas they are more desperate and willing sleep with anything. And not because of their outfits, you all look gay to me. It is because of their hat. For some reason, women want to put that silly thing on and wear it around like they haven't been sleeping their way to the bottom. Yes, I'm talking about you, girl in unflattering red dress.
After pushing my way through a bar that is clearly over capacity, I finally find Lindsay. If you don't know the layout of the space, there is one semi-circular elongated bar in front separated by booths from a seated section in the back. Off to the side are tables up against large open windows. That is where I found her. I am extremely happy she chose that as a destination because the smell in this bar was atrocious.
Could it be that someone had plugged in one of those ionic air fresheners and set it to spray the scent of fart every 30 seconds? Or possibly the management knew how to keep the numbers down by lighting fart scented candles and strategically placing them throughout the bar? No, the marina boys just know how to hold their flatulence in until they get to the bar. I think they all put on their stripped shirts, pop their collars, and call eachother to make sure no one has farted until they get to City Tavern. (I can't say women partake in this ritual because as all men know, women do not fart;)
We squeeze as many people as we can around the table and commence very intellectual conversation. Now to my knowledge, prior to my arrival there was only one girl other than Lindsay with the boys. I could tell that she was not pleased with our presence; it wasn't the body language that gave it away (she did not have much of a body to be giving anything away from...see bus girls, I can do it too!). She was f*cking saying it out loud through all sorts of snarls and aggressive hand gestures. No need to half assly cover your mouth, girl. We are sitting at the same f*cking table! We can hear you! Don't blame us that your crush is buying us shots/drinks and is more interested in my girlfriend than you. Although as much as it pains me to say, I have to hand it to her, she played the game triumphantly. She went from 0 to drunk in 2.7 minutes. (I hear those wine spritzers will do that to you.) She claimed she was too drunk to make it home on her own and needed help from the gentleman that was clearly more interested in my friend. Touche 'drunk' jealous girl. You won that round, but next time...
So to make a long story even longer, I have officially reached my quota on you, Marina! I will not be returning for at least another couple weeks. I swear!
(*Of course I can't completely cut the Marina out of my life....I have to have something that makes me feel better about myself;)
...and scene. Exit stage left.
Too Much Information! Take Me Back
I finally arrive to Fillmore after what seemed hours of listening to the Lucifer's of the world praising each other. My night didn't start until a bit later (11 o'clock) so when I stepped out into the world the sloppy slutty soldiers were hard at work. (this refers to both the males and females forms) After side-stepping some of the worst 'pick-up' verbal diarrhea I have heard in awhile, I arrived at my destination. Now, I don't know if any of you have been to City Tavern but if you are a man and not wearing a stripped shirt with a roofie in your pocket or if you a woman not wearing the uniform and ready to go home with pretty much any guy, well your tour ends here. I, of course, am always wearing the districts uniform and always ready to go home with any number of eligible bachelors, so my access was granted.
Within moments I was swimming in a sea of strips. Fortunately, since it was Fleet Week I got the rare opportunity to see these strips go into battle royale mode with a bevy of white (It was like West Side Story up in here. But way gayer). A word to the wise, gentleman, you will never win when up against a sailor.
Not because they are stronger, in fact the ones at the bar looked like the pre-pubescent sloth from the Goonies. Not because they are less desperate, pretty sure after getting man-on-man action on the high seas they are more desperate and willing sleep with anything. And not because of their outfits, you all look gay to me. It is because of their hat. For some reason, women want to put that silly thing on and wear it around like they haven't been sleeping their way to the bottom. Yes, I'm talking about you, girl in unflattering red dress.After pushing my way through a bar that is clearly over capacity, I finally find Lindsay. If you don't know the layout of the space, there is one semi-circular elongated bar in front separated by booths from a seated section in the back. Off to the side are tables up against large open windows. That is where I found her. I am extremely happy she chose that as a destination because the smell in this bar was atrocious.
Could it be that someone had plugged in one of those ionic air fresheners and set it to spray the scent of fart every 30 seconds? Or possibly the management knew how to keep the numbers down by lighting fart scented candles and strategically placing them throughout the bar? No, the marina boys just know how to hold their flatulence in until they get to the bar. I think they all put on their stripped shirts, pop their collars, and call eachother to make sure no one has farted until they get to City Tavern. (I can't say women partake in this ritual because as all men know, women do not fart;)We squeeze as many people as we can around the table and commence very intellectual conversation. Now to my knowledge, prior to my arrival there was only one girl other than Lindsay with the boys. I could tell that she was not pleased with our presence; it wasn't the body language that gave it away (she did not have much of a body to be giving anything away from...see bus girls, I can do it too!). She was f*cking saying it out loud through all sorts of snarls and aggressive hand gestures. No need to half assly cover your mouth, girl. We are sitting at the same f*cking table! We can hear you! Don't blame us that your crush is buying us shots/drinks and is more interested in my girlfriend than you. Although as much as it pains me to say, I have to hand it to her, she played the game triumphantly. She went from 0 to drunk in 2.7 minutes. (I hear those wine spritzers will do that to you.) She claimed she was too drunk to make it home on her own and needed help from the gentleman that was clearly more interested in my friend. Touche 'drunk' jealous girl. You won that round, but next time...
So to make a long story even longer, I have officially reached my quota on you, Marina! I will not be returning for at least another couple weeks. I swear!
(*Of course I can't completely cut the Marina out of my life....I have to have something that makes me feel better about myself;)
...and scene. Exit stage left.
Too Much Information! Take Me Back
