Desperate Fernet
So, this past Tuesday the lovely Brian Miller comes down into town after visiting the lovely Tyler Bradford in Portland. As he arrives just as I'm getting off work we go straight to dinner at Ramblas Tapas and dine on very nice sangria and quail (among other things).
Our next stop is at Amnesia, because they seem to have live music every night, with no cover, and has a nice intimate, rather red, ambiance. Live music, yes. Intimate, certainly. Besides the nice former BU student Sean who was bartending, it was just B. Mills and me. The aural entertainment for the evening was to be provided by karaoke. Hurrah! As it was still somewhat early Brian and I opted for several games of pool. On the most topographically diverse table I've ever played pool on. Balls would practically come to a halt and then suddenly veer in another direction with gusto. Brian seemed to have figured out the tables' tricks, but I was still floundering. Until "Desperado". Karaoke had started with little fanfare or enthusiasm; one lone soul was brave enough to make an attempt. His choice, "Desperado". Magically, with a truly unique rendering of this Eagles classic, I start sinking balls. Shots I never could have made even after years of practicing. Beautiful shots. Soon though, as always seems to be the case, the magic slipped from my fingers and pool cue. Probably due, as always seems to be the case, because the music beginning to be selected belonged to the decade known as the eighties.
So off again, to a venue where I knew there would be "live" music, and of a more pleasurable quality than what we had just been present for. To Bruno's for some Jazz Mafia; jazz instrumentals with some guy rapping over it all. Usually quite good. Plus two dollar Stella's and my friend Jon behind the bar also make this a choice stop. Brian and I enjoy the band, briefly converse with Jon the Bartender, have some Stella's and wait for Fay to join us. Fay arrives and to celebrate this confluence of North Shore natives I order a round of Fernet from Jon. Fernet is a classic old Italian guy drink made popular in San Francisco by the residents of North Beach which is San Francisco's Little Italy area. Firstly, Jon declines his shot (mal fraternitie). Secondly Fay and Brian now believe I am the anti-Christ for attempting to poison them and in such a disagreeable manner. Which leaves me with not just my shot, but Jon's. Two in a row is rough, no lie. This is the point in the evening where I COMPLETELY forget everything that happens after. I don't remember Fay leaving Bruno's. I don't remember leaving Bruno's. Nor walking up the street, finding my apartment, walking up the stairs (it could have been the elevator), nor getting in bed and going to sleep. I am gratified that there is one memory, that of brushing my teeth; thankfully, no matter how drunk I am, dental hygiene is still apparently a top priority. But I am not distressed by this missing span of time. Who knows what interesting and unusual things may have happened? I could have traveled to Bali to go bear-baiting with Senator Clinton and discussed the state of this country's health care. Who knows? Really, anything is possible and I like that thought.
http://www.brunoslive.com
Our next stop is at Amnesia, because they seem to have live music every night, with no cover, and has a nice intimate, rather red, ambiance. Live music, yes. Intimate, certainly. Besides the nice former BU student Sean who was bartending, it was just B. Mills and me. The aural entertainment for the evening was to be provided by karaoke. Hurrah! As it was still somewhat early Brian and I opted for several games of pool. On the most topographically diverse table I've ever played pool on. Balls would practically come to a halt and then suddenly veer in another direction with gusto. Brian seemed to have figured out the tables' tricks, but I was still floundering. Until "Desperado". Karaoke had started with little fanfare or enthusiasm; one lone soul was brave enough to make an attempt. His choice, "Desperado". Magically, with a truly unique rendering of this Eagles classic, I start sinking balls. Shots I never could have made even after years of practicing. Beautiful shots. Soon though, as always seems to be the case, the magic slipped from my fingers and pool cue. Probably due, as always seems to be the case, because the music beginning to be selected belonged to the decade known as the eighties.
So off again, to a venue where I knew there would be "live" music, and of a more pleasurable quality than what we had just been present for. To Bruno's for some Jazz Mafia; jazz instrumentals with some guy rapping over it all. Usually quite good. Plus two dollar Stella's and my friend Jon behind the bar also make this a choice stop. Brian and I enjoy the band, briefly converse with Jon the Bartender, have some Stella's and wait for Fay to join us. Fay arrives and to celebrate this confluence of North Shore natives I order a round of Fernet from Jon. Fernet is a classic old Italian guy drink made popular in San Francisco by the residents of North Beach which is San Francisco's Little Italy area. Firstly, Jon declines his shot (mal fraternitie). Secondly Fay and Brian now believe I am the anti-Christ for attempting to poison them and in such a disagreeable manner. Which leaves me with not just my shot, but Jon's. Two in a row is rough, no lie. This is the point in the evening where I COMPLETELY forget everything that happens after. I don't remember Fay leaving Bruno's. I don't remember leaving Bruno's. Nor walking up the street, finding my apartment, walking up the stairs (it could have been the elevator), nor getting in bed and going to sleep. I am gratified that there is one memory, that of brushing my teeth; thankfully, no matter how drunk I am, dental hygiene is still apparently a top priority. But I am not distressed by this missing span of time. Who knows what interesting and unusual things may have happened? I could have traveled to Bali to go bear-baiting with Senator Clinton and discussed the state of this country's health care. Who knows? Really, anything is possible and I like that thought.
http://www.brunoslive.com
posted by lissiebethie at 9:57 AM
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