Basketball / San Francisco

I don't give much of a fuck about sports, but, you know, when in Rome.

Championship night! I finish work at 8:30 and check the score online. We're up and there's 5 minutes left on the game clock. Perfect.

Venue options simultaneously numerous and scant, I decide to walk over to the Rite Spot on 17th and Folsom. I figure I can get a club soda, spend 5 minutes watching the win unfold, then go out and see how many burning mattresses I find outside with drunk people jumping on them amidst a hurricane of joyous screams and illegal fireworks.

I walk into the Rite Spot and indeed they have a tv playing the game. The woman behind the bar flashes me a delicious smile and says "are you here for the comedy show?"

My thought process: "Comedy? I like comedy. How often do i walk into a bar 5 minutes before comedy starts? They have Mezcal evidently. And food! Soup of the day: creamy tomato. I like soup. And cream, and tomatoes, and smiling bartenders. Yay!!"

Minutes later I'm sitting at a table drinking the fattest glass of Mezcal I have ever not actually wanted, waiting for a bowl of creamy tomato soup and a garden salad with chicken. Comedy is experiencing technical difficulties before getting started. The game is well over. Outside, the car horns are blaring, and in this dank bar there are maybe 6 people drinking wine and saying nothing.

What the fuck am I doing here?

There's one thing you'll notice if you go to comedy shows: there is always someone up front with a perfect laugh, cackling with outlandish volume and consistency. He/she is there to get the crowd going. Tonight it's obvious, the MC cracking up to material so awful he probably isn't bothering to discern between jokes and mere dialogue.

The final comic is funny. Very funny. He eventually wraps up his set and I leave. Along my walk from the Rite Spot to 16th Street BART, things are surprisingly quiet. No fires, no dancing, no music, just two thugs yelling "Warriors" as a 1997 Nissan Altima honks its horn incessantly.

The highlight of my night is the taco from Taqueria Vallarta right next to the BART station, which fills me up more than all the food on my $36 tab at the Rite Spot. Juicy grilled chicken, corn tortillas, fresh cilantro and pico de gallo, and all the radish slices I want. $2.50.