Owen snuck away to get Ian some lovely records whilst I was recovering from staying up all night to watch City v. Spurs.
Then we went to Alcatraz! Tickets booked, we got on the ferry over to The Rock and embarked on the award-winning audio guided tour. It was really very good and a must go to in SF. It's already an eerie and foreboding place to go to but with the tour describing things like The Battle of Alcatraz it really adds colour to the famous stories.
Here I am with Owen re-enacting a Cable Guy scene and offering up a solitary nipple in the name of vicarious sexual gratification.
I won't bore you with all the details (that are actually really interesting) but suffice to say it was a great excursion and managed to be touristy and cool at the same time. Here I am giving Ian a prison-yard shivving.
We decided that on this most auspicious of occasions we should go somewhere good for tea tonight so we went to supposedly the best Chinese restaurant in town, The House of Nan King (yes we laughed). It was cramped, really hot and the waitresses were very curt but it was well worth having to queue to get in. I bought Ian his meal for his birthday as I lack imagination.
We were lucky enough to be waited on by the renowned owner Peter Fang who cooked us up a 'special dish' - this was easily the best meal we had throughout the trip. Hank could learn a thing or two from Peter Fang!
For night-time chuckles we went to notorious Mission area on the south of the city. We had been warned several times about this area but what are you gonna do? Cab there and back and it turned out to be fine and a bit of a hipster haven.
Started off in Elixir and it was Ian birthday so he had to get the drinks in.....ahem. He took hours to get serves cos in America they fucking love sitting at the bar and getting right in the way.
Then off to a bit of a rock bar called Kilowatt that had Mastodon on the wireless and pictures of dogs on the wall. Good.
Then we went to the hottest bar in the world which was uncomfortable to say the least. After a while a real character started talking to us.
'Hey you want this drink, I just bought it for a girl and she walked away'
No thanks.
He cottoned on that we were British and tried to get us to cruise the bar with him picking up girls. He was about 35, had ridiculously curly hair and a very very annoying voice and manner. Any girl that walked past he would grab then, tell them we were British and then try to engage them in sexy-talk.
We escaped to the quietest bar in the world in which the barman who hates Man United put some premier league action on for me.
Bit drunk now and on to the final bar where I was ceremonially made the judge of a kissing contest in a photo booth. Two lads who were trying to entice two femmes were willing to snog each other if the girls would also do so. The lads won as they displayed far more passion than the tentative girls who merely hugged. honestly, the men in this country will do fucking ANYTHING for pusseh.
Played pin the tail on the donkey, accosted by a few more weirdos then home.
Not a bad night all-in-all!
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