December 15th, 2010

running, bomb tech

Basically, I had the best Halloween ever.

Only a month and a half later, I bring my writeup of October 29 and 30.

10/29/2010 (Friday)
Met John (internet buddy, connected to large parts of the greater local social circle) downtown, caffeinated ourselves. There was a bit of hilarity with an insecure employees-only door -- it has a keypad lock, and we were sitting right there on the bench where we could see what the code was as the guy was entering it. "It's not like it's an airport, though," I sighed. John pointed out that the most recent bombing that day had in fact been at a coffee shop, which I hadn't heard, having not yet hit up the news that day.

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10/30/2010 (Saturday)
Did dog stuff with my aunt. Didn't know exactly when stuff was starting, so I got dressed up (regular shirt off, disco ball top on, blue tinsel wig over head, makeup on, boa clipped to the phone leash on the one side and the purse on the other) went in to the city what turned out to be early, and hung out in a coffee shop and tried to tether my phone and the netbook. This time I'd brought the cable: if I was going to be out until all hours, I was damn well going to have a way to charge my phone, even if it meant turning my netbook into a glorified battery pack for the phone. The tethering attempt turned into an exercise in hilarity and frustration, as I got something set up wrong off the bat, and then it wouldn't connect to anything. The weird wifi did not help at all.

Highlights of hanging out in the coffee shop: The employees-only door that has the code that the guy was not at all hiding while we were sitting right there on Friday? Some random customer, possibly drunk (given that it was Halloween weekend) was trying the bathroom code on that door for about five minutes before realizing that it was the wrong door.

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I took the F Market up to the Castro. It was full of characters: there was a fellow in lavender chaps, with a bandalero. I was wondering what he had in it. It turned out to be Chapstick. The F which deposited me precisely on time for the scheduled dinner time; John, JD, and Ryan were there just a smidge early. Tif arrived shortly. Funtimes were had by all. The waiter was flirty.

We adjourned to Badlands, which was noisy, crowded, and there were no seats. This did not suit well. I was on the near verge of a panic attack. This was helped by taking my coat off, which stopped the worst of the overheating.

Tif, JD, and Ryan wound up dancing; after a bit, John went out for some air. I found myself in a conversation with a rather drunk and flamboyant fellow who wasn't a local. He was attracted to the sheer fabulousness of my top: apparently it was too amazing to exist, and he had to have a photo with him and it in the same picture, and OMG, wasn't it heavy? it looked like chainmail -- no, it was just silvery-threaded fabric with flat sequins glued on. And so forth. I was amused. Later, he was trying to get someone's number for a lesbian friend of his, but no-one had paper or pen. I did; I fished the pen out of my Writing Tools ziploc, and then as he was struggling to write on her arm (and being thoroughly bitchy about how sweaty she was, making writing impossible) I became the Paper Fairy.

We ducked out, and then split off: Tif for home (the tickets having sadly sold out) and the rest of us for RHPS. The bus out of the Castro was fuuuulllll. The sidewalks were crowded. Drag Sarah Palin was getting a good cheerful razzing from her "constituents" as she crossed the street. The bus, omg. Drunk straight hipsters, many male. There were a pair of Chilean miners being obviously all of the above. There was also a cow (a boy cow, apparently) with a tap protruding from his udder, and clearly a dispenser of some sort concealed within said udder. I have no idea what beverage was in there. Probably alcoholic. Possibly the most appropriate beverage would have been Irish Cream or something of the like, but again, no clue whether someone who would dress as a boy cow would have thought of this nuance.

We approached the theatre. There was a line. There were in fact two lines -- one for ticket-holders (us), and one for those who did not in fact have tickets. I saw a familiar flash of fabric. "Shirt twins!" I declared to the guy wearing a button-down shirt of the same fabric as my top was made from. General glee.

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When thinking about the day, my first thought was "Eh, a pretty standard RHPS show". My second thought was: "Oh my, how jaded I have become, that a hilarious and delightful show that some of my friends have likely never seen and might go to some lengths in order to see, has become 'eh, pretty standard'!!"

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The party split up, given that it was 3:30 AM and only getting later, and I hung out at the bus stop waiting for the bus that would take me back to 16th and Mission, where I would catch the 14, which would take me within reasonable walking distance of the BART station that I'd parked at.

Four giggling girls showed up at the bus stop, all with Vs on their faces in red lipstick. They were obviously still wound up, and one of them mentioned that she was sooo wound up, she didn't want to go home, and she was probably going to dance on BART and be a general entertainment to the other BART patrons.

My ears pricked up. This sounded like a disaster waiting for a place to happen. "Uh, you guys do realize that it's 3:30am? And BART's not running now?"

There was some consternation, and they changed their plans. Collapse )

The bus arrived, and we piled on. The girls got off before I did. I hoped that they reached their destination, wherever they were going, and got home safely.

I waited at the 16 and Mission stop for the 14. It was sort of weird at that hour. There were various partyers going home. The first bus was way too full. By that time I was regretting my oversight in not refilling my water bottle before leaving the theatre, so I walked to the one place that was still open, Taqueria Los Coyotes. Apparently it is not quite so trashed at other hours, but it was pretty gnarly at ~4am on Halloween morning. I refilled my water bottle and got a Coca-cola and went back to wait at the bus stop.

Lisa, one of the chatfish, teased me about being such a mother that I am not just the Fishmum, but that I wind up being the mother to non-Fish on the street, because I was taking care of the virgins. Heh.

Bus service at that hour on the weekend really sucks, and to discourage partying in San Francisco (apparently there have been problems with people bringing their gang violence to parties) there was no service increase for the occasion. Eventually I did get on a bus, and a very nice drag queen gave me her seat.

It took a long time to walk from the last bus stop to the BART parking lot, and I was limping the whole way, but damn, that was a good party.

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