I do not get very debauched these days, in fact hardly debauched at all. This is currently about as good as it gets.

On Saturday, Nancy and Bebo kindly invite me to their annual Mardi Gras Party that they have been holding since 1893. Their house is on Clayton so only a few blocks aways, up Masonic, along Haight, up Clayton;

The party is great with elderly hippies playing jug band and Grateful Dead music. We eat the wonderful Jambalaya, Seafood Gumbo and collard greens, that Nancy has prepared. More importantly we drink Oyster Shooters. You put a raw oyster into a shot glass, fill it with cold vodka, some lime juice and tabasco. You then neck it. They hit the spot and are so good for you.

Not enough vodka in this one.

Lots of interesting people, mostly in their 70’s, with great stories to tell.

I stagger home at 12:30 along Haight St at its wildest. Live rock and jazz are blaring out of bars, the sidewalks are packed, homeless party with their dogs, playing bongos and banjos, SFPD cruisers lazily swim around like sharks, people who have drunk even more than me sit up against walls, the air is blue with dope smoke. Yay debauchery!

I have a few hours sleep before setting out for more debauchery. At 06:30 on Sunday I am not in church, I am in the immortal Kezar Pub,

Before the game.

The place fills with hilarious Irish, who fall into 2 categories, construction and techie. Both groups are so funny, so inventive in their comedy. The humor is catalysed by lots of Guinness and huge fry-up breakfasts.

Kick off!

It is the best party, enjoyment amplified by drinking at 08:00. So debauched. Ireland lose the game convincingly.

I burst out of the pub at 09:00 ish into wincingly brilliant sunshine and find myself back on Haight, but a very different version thereof.

No-one here.

Almost nobody has surfaced from the previous night’s partying, except a few casualties asleep in shop doorways.

I stumble into Gus’s Market as it opens and the first thing they sell that day is an octopus, er to me.

What a beauty!

Somehow buying an octopus early in the morning also seems debauched.

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1 Response to Debauchery

  1. Pingback: Sitting/Lying Around | The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond

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