Yelped in San Francisco: Vessel

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I originally posted this in Yelp San Francisco, but fuck it, why not post here too.

I think I may have gotten laid that night, I’m not completely sure.

My sis and I started getting loaded at some gay bar in Castro…

I was here this past weekend while on a trip to San Francisco to visit my sister. My sis and I started getting loaded at some gay bar in Castro, I forgot what it was called but I remember being disappointed that it wasn’t some stereotypically gay name straight out of a movie, like “The Man-Hole” or “Bear’s Bar”. Barkeep gave me two drinks when I ordered gin and I was flattered since I thought he was trying to turn a straight guy, but I later saw on the screen that shit was 2-for-1 and got a little sad.

After that we went to a restaurant in North Beach owned by some Italian dude that turns half the place into a club. I didn’t eat, I drank. I mention all this so you all realize how trashed I was by the time I got to Vessel. I was in line for the restroom in this place and some shitfaced Japanese girl starts hitting on me. What the hell was her name, Tokogecko? Tageki? I don’t know dude, it started with a T then she’d start slurring and trying to kiss my neck. I knew that girl for all of 38 seconds and already she’s looking for, as Ludacris puts it, “dick.” Wait, a lot of people put it that way. Fast forward, like, 20 minutes, and we end up in some club where someone in our party gets some dude from the 49ers kicked off a table to make room for us. I don’t remember what it was called, sorry, at this point I’m inebriated beyond recognition.

…some shitfaced Japanese girl starts hitting on me.

In our party was this girl, real nice, knows every bouncer, cabbie, owner, bartender, DJ, dubious vagrant, etc. in the city because it turns out she used to be a promoter. She takes me to the dance floor then takes me out of the club. She decides to take it upon herself to show me that clubs in San Francisco aren’t as lame as I was expecting coming from Miami where everything DOESN’T FUCKING CLOSE AT 2 AM. Obviously, I go with her, because fuck yeah. This is where the last bit of alcohol I just drank starts kicking in.

I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember which one out of the 5 or so places she takes me to after hopping in a cab. All I know is God damn there are a lot of Asians that like to dance. Nothing wrong with that, just an observation, I’m down with the Asian Invasion or whatever, I had a good time at that Chinese New Year celebration thing in Chinatown. Anyway, I’ve heard people talk about this place like it’s the shit and there was one club we went to that I vaguely remember liking so I’m assuming this is it. Also, this is the only club name I remember from the trip so it’s the one I’m going to write about.

…you girls in San Francisco aren’t stuck-up bitch cunts like your Miami counterparts.

While at Vessel (I think?) the girl I’m with goes off to talk to someone and within seconds another Asian girl starts hitting on me. This sort of attention would’ve been awesome back when I watched anime and had yellow fever. That’s another thing, you girls in San Francisco aren’t stuck-up bitch cunts like your Miami counterparts. Props on that, and also props on having In-N-Outs. The burgers, not the Castro population.

After the clubs we head back to her place, which I don’t remember doing. I wake up in my underwear on her bed and ask her as smoothly as I possibly can, “hey, did we, uh…” and she says no. My lack of morning wood says otherwise, but she has no reason to lie.

Now all I need is to track down the pictures of that night so I can piece it together like an alcoholic Memento.