It happened Friday night, June 7, 1996
in San Francisco over at The Warfield.
The music hall was filled to capacity with smoke
and twentysomethings looking to have a good time.
The designated attaction was indeed Widespread Panic
-- however, we've talked to several who argue
that the people-watching was even better.
I call it a toss up.
The featured $4.75 Sierra Nevadas were
quite quenching in the 96 degree room.
The only problem with Sierra on draught
is hippie hair coming pretty close
if not succeeding
to swimming in the beer.
Drank it anyway.
Meanwhile, the eyes could not stop from
wandering onto the physiques of passerbyers.
My my.
After almost three hours of music divided into two sets,
the crowd departed happy, yet exhausted.
A hot commodity after the show was the overpriced taxicab.
Goood luck in snagging one without a little bit o luck.
Not too far across town, the lower Haight was heavily populated.
Parking was not for the short- of-patience people.
Toronado was serving the delicious ales and loud tunes
while an interesting crowd of body piercings,
black leather, and tattoos mingled among themselves.
The first sip of an Anderson Valley Oatmeal Stout
made me stand and yell "OOOOHHHH BAARRNNEY!"
What a life.
Giving you the straight (and we do mean STRAIGHT)
scoop on jammin' fatties and hottys,
we are pirAnts on the crust,
and we don't lie.