totallygone

travel, at a tangent


SOMA, Vintage 2004

Gay bars in San Francisco fall into distinct types, mirroring a population that can be categorized roughly as follows: Mainstream (twink thru muscle via prep and exec); Alternative (hippy, hip-hop, skateboarder, pierced/inked), and Fetish (leather/bear/). These are concentrated in two locations - Castro (my front yard), where the drinks are famously strong and the streets are full of tourists, or South of Market (SOMA), where things are a tad more hardcore. Alcohol is cheaper and more plentiful in American bars - although your glass is half-full of ice, the other half is pure liquor (with maybe a splash of mixer for flavour/colour). Testimony to the popularity of alcohol here can be found on the questionnaires performed by Magnet, my local sexual health clinic, where I've been offering Thai massage on Friday afternoons. Although I like to think of myself as worldly-wise, as being mildly unshockable, I found myself at a loss for words when asked, after the usual questions about ketamine, crystal meth and heroin use, if I injected alcohol. I had to ask him to clarify. Inject? Alcohol? Not something that ever even crossed my mind. But strangely enough, the subject came up in conversation with the resident chef at Trader Joe's a couple of days later, where Kathie Lobsang, my favourite nun, and I were shopping for chocolate and mayonnaise. Trader Joe's is a classy joint in SOMA where they sell expensive but delicious things to Organic Types. At the chef station, a small crowd of shoppers gathers to sample the day's delicacy (yesterday's was Vegetarian Lasagne with Crispy-Tender Zucchini), and then buy all the ingredients, displayed conveniently next to the food. Free (exotic blend) coffee is available also. "So good," the chef said, "you'll be doing it intravenously before you know it."

"How funny you should mention that," I replied, relating my conversation at Magnet, and visualizing a join-the-dot of trackmarks from coffee and booze.

His eyes twinkled as he divided another tray of lasagne into sample-sized portions. "I've never heard of injecting alcohol, but I do know that wine enemas are very popular and apparently highly enjoyable."

"Mmmm... red or white?" I mused.. "Would you recommend a particular vintage?"

"Something best served at, or slightly above, room temperature," he twinkled.
The Organic Types tittered, between mouthfuls of crispy-tender zucchini. But it takes a lot to raise an eyebrow, let alone a giggle, in this town, and no sooner had they registered their amusement than their minds moved to other, more pressing issues. The price of El Salvadorian Dark Roast. San Franciscans aren't so easily impressed.


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