The Bold Italic has a little recap of their Holly Trolley party, which Mike, my cousin and I hit up a few weeks ago. What they don’t mention in the article is that a Porsche had wedged itself up onto the Muni tracks downtown, so the trolley only went about a half mile in two hours. The booze was flowing freely, so most people were happy, but as a small-bladdered individual I had to ask Mike and Janet to ditch the trolley with me. We wound up at Fly Bar for old times’ sake, and ate pizzettas like we used to do a few times a week.
It’s was a little uncomfortable to drop in at a bar where we were regulars – it felt like everything had changed (who’s that bartender? why is the art different? why the hell did they get rid of the sake cocktails?) and, at the same time, like we had been sitting in that corner booth for the last 8 years. Which we kind of had been, until we got old and crotchety and stopped being able/wanting to pound sake bombs in multi-hour sessions. Probably for the best, huh.
