Not a complete loss

Since we both felt sick and tired, we didn’t leave the house all day on Saturday. Total sloths. When it got to be dinnertime, we spent half an hour listing the pros and cons of  going out to get something to eat. Total indecisiveness. Well, we should have taken this as a sign to stay home, because what followed was a complete disaster. We had finally come to a decision to get noodle soup at Mifune in Japantown;  it was cheap, relatively close, and we had heard good reviews of the place. The food tasted fine, and our sore throats actually started to feel a little better. After eating, we were on the fence again trying to decide whether or not to go to the Toronado, our usual Saturday night activity. Ian was working, and we always like to talk to him. But we were a little tired. And there was boxing on HBO at 11:00 PM . We came to a compromise of staying for one beer, two at the most. Now, all I had at the restaurant was a large Sapporo beer and a little hot sake. And over a period of more than 2 hours at the Toronado, all I had was 2 Boddingtons and a Framboise. Yet, I started feeling dizzier and dizzier, as if I had been drinking since 3 in the afternoon! As long as I stick with the same kind of drinks, this usually didn’t happen (believe me, I’ve learned my lesson on that one!) Avery felt the same way, and he can usually drink a hell of a lot more than he did last night. Nevertheless, we both got back to the apartment and, after drinking 2 large glasses of water and realizing the room wasn’t going to stop spinning any time soon, proceeded to spend the better part of Saturday night puking our guts out. Damn those noodles! Damn them to hell!

The evening wasn’t a complete loss, however, as we did get to hear firsthand the story of how Johnny, after a guy told him to “kiss his ass” last week, chased the guy out of the bar, wrestled his coat off of him, swung it around over his head like a lasso, and finally let go. The jacket landed right on top of a cab that was driving down Haight Street.