I like the nightlife baby!

So after that delicious lunch I paced back and forth on Valencia Street until 6PM. Had a date last night... and I didn't take pictures. I just think it'd be weird if someone started snapping photos on a first date and I don't want to inflict that sort of awkwardness with my camera. I can do that all by myself!

My date - let's call him Stripes because his shirt and cardigan were striped - suggested Esperpento on 22nd Street. We ordered jamón Iberico, grilled artichokes, mussels, and good ol' patatas bravas (essentially fried potato chunks with a spicy sauce.) Again, I'm sorry I have no photos but if you like food, you will like the tapas here. You might not enjoy the musical troupe that strolled around in Inquisition robes but the food is solid.

As for the conversation... it came easy enough. No red flags like another date but it wasn't anything special. I felt like I was giving updates to a long-lost friend, or better yet an amiable stranger... sometimes I talk a lot around strange people. It happens. It's easy to see why Stripes has a lot of friends as he is a friendly, cool, and nice guy. This is not the "nice" I drop when I truly have nothing to say about a person, this is the real "nice" you encounter when you come across a genuine human being. Unfortunately, I don't feel any connection beyond friendship, so I guess that's that.

Met up with Taters and her friends afterwards to unwind and dance a little. Found the bar Casanova on Valencia to be pleasant (i.e., not too crowded that you can't get to the bathroom for love or money) but found a disappointing lack of Italian men (it is called Casanova, no?) Danced a bit at Delirium on 16th Street and thanks to the Jesus look-alike, we got a spot on the dance floor by the fan. The fan pretty much saved us because it is hot inside Delirium! All that hot air inside a narrow little bar crammed with bootyshakers is a formula for air that makes you melt.

When we could take no more, we left to search for food. After a change of footwear...

those socks will never be the same again

...we headed to the nearest taqueria. And instead of El Farolito (a good eight blocks away) or Taqueria Cancun (five-six blocks away) we headed into El Castillito.

They seem to have missed the concept of the Wet Burrito because the food is resting
atop the sauce, not drowning in it.

The nicest thing I can say about El Castillito is that it was cheap and it was easy to get a seat. But if it's easy to get a seat, that tells you something about the food. Is this really carne asada, A.K.A. steak, or am I eating cheap ground beef? The sauce was pretty lackluster. And the tempting avocados you see here? Not even ripe.

But hey, I had a feeling that it wouldn't be the greatest burrito ever when I walked in to silence instead of a healthy murmur of conversation. I still ate it, about 30% of it. And overall the night was good... met a hijacked Interceptor (those little carts in which the parking police ride) and a group of angry kids circling their passed-out friend before we even made it to the car. All in the Mission on a Saturday night.