I wouldve been putting up stuff, but something sinister has been keeping me from the written word.
One word.
Cisco.
We'll come to that.
It all started with my arrival at the boys in SF. The plans unfolded immediately as I stepped in. It was 636pm, early for festivities...there's talk of a Bike 42 Vodka afterparty...blunts....general rancor..and all the confusion you could want. All I have on my mind before anything needs to be done is bibimbap. 'Don't worry, we'll get it before they close'
I didn't worry.
We gather up our stuff and depart, only to my dismay, for the liquor store. What? No food? I've been driving all day. 'We'll eat before the bar'
Good idea.
Well, these boys love tecate. I can't say the same, but I feel an obligation to keep up so I cracked one...or 6 open and we watched the crowds pulse and fade and the light dip in the sky. Soon, one by one, we head out. Then, there was two.
We hoof it back to the house to grab some wheels for the next step.
'Bibimbap?!'
'Yes, my friend'
Success.
We're en route for some glorious grub. It's only about 6 blocks away but the anticipation was great. We come upon the vomit lime green building and, sure enough, it's open. We walk in only to be stopped at the doorway.
'Oh, no! We're closed! (input heavy korean accented apologies)'
"it's ok...we'll get it tomorrow for lunch.'
Damn.
Anyone that knows me, this was a blow to my esteem. No matter. I'll pick it up later.
We crash into the M later on to an interesting mix of people and music. Familiar faces, hugs, hellos, unrecognized moments, all good times.
I immediately sit next to a Haitian girl who has the tendency to be amourous with quite a few people..maybe some of them in the room aall at once, if she could. That being said, I sat next to her and we started catching up for no reason. Why would it even matter? All her eyes see are penises and vaginas. Like a finely attuned predator, they only see one thing.
The random chatter goes on, I sweep the room, the drinks are plenty, the friends are laughing, the people are, more or less, getting along.
'What? I keep forgetting you guys have no 7&7s'
Goddamnit.
Must not be my night tonight.
Gin and a squeeze of OJ, then.
Gin.
Gin.
Gin.
The night started to take on a familiar blur. The noises melted and blended with the lights and faces. We break around the alley every so often for a much needed smoke.
Exhale. The chatter turns into nonstop laughter. It's one great big party. Nothing to worry about.
Stumbling in through the front door, I sit down at a booth and the predator is still on the search. She returns to me.
Am I a last resort?
Maybe.
She sits next to me and looks me up and down. I look back and think 'the fuck?'
She starts pawing at me in a drunken fervor to elicit a sexual response. Seeing a person on the end of the night looking for someone in the middle of the night wasn't doing it. I just looked at her with a slight sadness and what does she do?
'Hmmmph'
Typical.
Rapid fire texting begins. I watch over her shoulder as I recognize the names, she sends a horny SOS.
Does it work?
I think it mightve.
In a few short minutes, over a fresh gin, I see her come around the corner with an obvious look of a mission accomplished and not far behind her, a kid with a ratty 'stache and budding locks zipping up his pants. Everyone's gotta have a good night in their own right.
Let it go.
The hours are running late. My friends are all over the place. I don't know where they are half the time. We decide it's time to have a bonfire in the backyard of a local.
Duraflame, Cisco, Doritos, big mistakes we should never have made.
Load up. Bike off. Squeeze through door. Set up pit.
Instantly, we have a group of people vying for a space and a drink.
We sit and crack open a fresh tecate, duraflame log crackling away, and the devil is raised.
Cisco.
The first one is opened.
Grape.
Smells like tylenol, cough syrup, grape swishers, and booze all in one.
Godawful.
We swig and pass.
Within minutes, it is empty.
We sip our tecates and smoke. Afraid of the next one to come.
Fresh tecates all around.
The fire burns low. We sink deeper in our seats, conversations building in intensity, the booze flowing.
Fresh log. Fresh bottle.
Cisco.
No!
No more!
This one, a berry flavor.
Goddamnit.
We swig and pass.
It's not as bad...maybe it's the alcohol numbing me. Maybe it really just doesn't taste that bad now.
Sip the tecates and watch the fire blaze hot. The bowls go around. The Cisco goes even faster.
Crack open a new bottle.
Cisco.
FUCK!
Is this going to end?
Well...two more bottles.
How much time has passed at this point? I'm not even sure and I keep glancing at my cell phone to gauge my space....
but I'm lost.
I can't even remember the last time it was when I last looked.
Swig.
Puff.
Exhale.
My insides are churning.
I don't want to look at anyone anymore. The fire makes them look like caricatures. One girl in particular looks extremely cartoony with eyes that look like they'd be before a murder. It was my paranoia kicking in. Was it?
Fresh bottle.
Cisco?
Yes, Cisco.
I swore I wouldn't drink anymore of this shit.
Sipping on my tecate, it is thrust into my hand.
Cisco?
FUCK.
I swig as hard as I can.
My eyes water, ears feel like bleeding, stomach turning.
The syrup.
The booze.
The gin.
I'm not so sure I feel good.
Swig and pass.
It's a long night already.
We still have to get through this bottle and ride back home.
4 blocks but 4 blocks is a shitload when your vision is a squinty right eye.
Swig and pass.
Done?
Yes.
I sink into my chair, watching people leave one by one, the flame going low, sinking deeper into darkness.
An incredible surge hits me.
I spring up, walk upstairs, acting as if nothing was up, once in, I bolted for the bathroom.
I've never seen so many rainbow colors in my vomit.
Grape, Cherry, Berry, and an uknown flavor. All swirling in rainbow technicolor.
Fuck.
I think I'll be alright.
I stagger downstairs, crack a fresh tecate, wash my mouth of the hatred.
Cisco.
Gag.
The night nears its end...finally...I have no desire to be awake or alive right now.
We drag our bikes out into the almost morning light.
'What time is it?'
Time to get going so we can do our dance with death riding bikes on the streets.
Zipping in and out of predawn traffic, riding along the bike lane almost clipping cars, trying to time the green lights.
We survive.
I immediately pass out with dreams too blurry and horrifying to retell.
The next morning, I wake to a kick in my side.
'Get up! Food!'
Just what I need.
Eggs and toast.
Recounting the night.
I guess after drinking Cisco, you're prone to a form of prison rape.
Aggressive, drunken, desirable, wanted, glorious.
I don't know what to think.
I just dont ever want to taste Cisco ever again in my life.
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