Tee Many Martunis

[Oog. I knew there was a reason besides lack of proximity that I don't make Martuni's a regular hangout like I did when I first moved to San Francisco. Yesterday was John's birthday, and for lack of a better venue, he decided to invite all and sundry to happy hour at That Lounge That's Not Quite In The Mission, Not Quite In The Castro, And Not Quite In Hayes Valley.]

[Marilyn was the only one with the foresight to bring snacks (bag of Tostitos and a jar of salsa), which we snarfed thru in short order. Also in her plastic shopping bag was a legal pad, so I suddenly thought "party game." Unbeknownst to the birthday boy, everyone was required to write his/her first memory of John, or how they met. He had to figure out who wrote which ode as I read them out over the microphone next to the piano. There were some dillies, and some were created out of whole cloth, but the best were the truthful, concise ones. (My sister: "I remember respecting John for being one of the few people who could drink my grandmother under the table.")]

[Mine simply read: "I met John as the result of a personals ad form he filled out at this very bar six years ago this very night." The whole room went "awwwwww..."]

[I was at Martuni's that night six years ago as well, and filled out my own ad. I have no memory of John and his posse, probably because I was in the middle of my love affair with the Cosmopolitan which was such a component of what I've called ad nauseam my "Hayes Valley of the Dolls" days. I tried to strike up that acquaintance again last night, and I feel distinctly queasy today. As I said, "oog."]

Previously Next

[Later: well, lookee who's #11 on Yahoo!'s search results for the aforementioned bar. Oh, my shameful past...]