Paul Makepeace ;-)

June 23, 2004

One of those nights

Posted in: Drivel

Some of the most bizarre events of my life happened in San Francisco around my first trip c. 1998 pre- and post-Burning Man. To the extent it almost, in my mind, became a nearly mythological confluence of randomness and experience, unlikely to be repeated.

And yet, more or less out of nowhere, around 3am this morning some truly surreal shit started happening.

Putting aside the improv class in the morning and the frenetic mobile clubbing pimping in the afternoon. I hope to write those up separately as they're more than worthy of their own entries (thanks Joe & Carolyn in the meantime).

After a night at a French private party at Boulevard wherein I guested a new sandle-wearing hippie friend into a ragingly smart-casual event, and took my level of calling bullshit bullshit (from some Haitian chick) to unprecedented levels, Joe & I headed to APT.

Adam & Raw/becca flingin' it.

So first contact is a coke dealer (yeah, that'll be the pepsi analog of course, duh) into which I swap numbers so we can talk about some other blissful substance. My exchange for this vague promise seems to be a rather unusual New York woman who is so unbelievably into me I can't shake the idea I'm dealing with a whore. Welcome to the world of recreational pharma. Some serious Tango/Salsa hybrid later, I head to the bathroom (aka toilet) whereupon I'm fucking joined by my 27yr old psychology major friend who proceeds to well... Head back into the dancefloor for some more shit-testing from me (I still can't believe what I'm hearing; I rarely meet English people who are so au fait with English trivia, damn this chick is good).

After pressing into my hand her email she has to leave so I start talking to the two DJs in lab technicians coats. About pluralistic relativism, (sub|obj)ectivity of truth, Sartre. This guy could seriously hang with that kind of conversation for over five mins. Impressing each other more contact details swapped including the mobile clubbing happening in, er, less than 12hrs.

Outside, more homeless dude & coke dealership action,

Darryl & Paul

...followed by picking up this Colorado homeboy...

The impromptu APT posse

...and two Aussies for a cruise into a somewhat less than legit bar (i.e. where can you buy a drink at 5:15am? Here).

Beat this pizzeria owner at pool, sunk a beer, and listened to the interminable chatter of a drunken Australian chick on the way under Holland Tunnel.

This really has turned out to be an absolutely outstanding trip.

PS for the alcoholic historians, we started the evening with British Airways 187ml bottle of Bordeaux red, followed by pre-venue Cobra 16oz malt liquor, fortified mid-event by 5cl of British Airways Gordon's gin. Apart from raiding a table of high-rolling vodka drinkers... oh well it doesn't matter. I had, literally, a two minute lecture from the dude running the grocery store about the likelihood of ending up institutionalized simply by dint of being in possession of a can of 75c Cobra. I don't think he'd ever seen a guy in a tie buying that skank in his life. Goddam, Crazyleg & Texas has a lot to answer for.

Right then, 7:34am: bedtime.

Posted by Paul Makepeace at June 23, 2004 07:38 | TrackBack

ha ha ha the drunken australin chick is my best friend

Posted by: monica at December 11, 2009 21:07
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