Posts Tagged ‘tourist’

I was reminded of this little adventure while talking to a friend the other day…..

A girl friend and I were in San Francisco a few years ago. This was my second trip to San Fran, but it was a very different experience than the first go round. The first time, we knew locals and they drove us around in their car(s) to their favorite spots, which was kind of boring. This time we were explorers. We used public transit to get everywhere, and those journeys, no matter how brief, provided colorful memories each and every time. I love that city! Just thinking about it makes me squeeeal!

We set out one evening to go to an Italian restaurant. We had asked around to figure out which one we should patron. A local guy we had met was emphatic that we must dine at one in particular. This was in the area that tourists call “Little Italy” and the locals make fun of it being labeled as such, and they never refer to it the same… or so we were told. Anyway, we made a reservation and then hit Union Square for some pre-dinner shopping. We were caught a little off guard when the streets of Union Square abruptly went from congested with other shoppers, hustling and bustling about, to completely abandoned in the matter of 2 minutes. Everything had closed and we needed to catch a bus. 

We figured out our route to the bus stop, but before we reached it, a scruffy guy on a bicycle started following us. He was circling around us as we walked and wanted to know where we were going. He kept repeating: “You are the most beautiful woman I have seen, just tell me where you need to go and I will get you there.” Really, all 3 of us are gonna pile onto your bicycle mister? By this point, we had had many encounters with “street people” and the homeless of the city. But this guy wouldn’t go away! Something about a person feeling the need to tell you, “I’m not dangerous… you don’t have to be afraid” tends to make one uncomfortable. We ditched that bus stop and set off to find another one.

We jumped off the bus in the area we had set out for, but we didn’t really know how to find the restaurant. We were late. This area of the city was still very active and loud. As we made our way down the street, we were stopped by a few flamboyant guys who were working the doors of other restaurants. Well, we needed directions, but they spinned me around and danced and tried to sweet talk us into dining at “their place” instead. This was fun and cute in the beginning, but was quickly getting annoying by the 3rd twirl. I was hungry. Anyone who knows me well knows that when I am really hungry, I get cranky! And it ain’t pretty.

We found our destination! Of course I do not remember the name. We asked the guy out front about our reservation… without verbally responding, he grabbed me and kissed me, almost on the mouth, but I jerked just quick enough that his lips landed just to the side of my mouth. I must have shot him one hell of a dirty look.

Keep in mind that I was separated from my ex and going through a divorce. I was in my “men need not exist” phase… and it irritated me when men assumed I wanted their attention.

He then proceeded to get pissy with me because I didn’t kiss him back in return. Are you kidding me? I want food. I do not want to stand out in the street playing kissy-face with some cocky Italian stranger!

We were soon to learn that this place had a reputation… we may have been the first girls to show up for dinner and not melt over the advances of Mr. Kissy-face.

We were seated upstairs where we had a view of the entire restaurant around and below. It was so nice to drink a glass of wine. Only men worked at this place, and every one of them was Italian, complete with thick accent. Each one that stopped by the table flirted and fawned over us. I mean, they do work for tips. I will skip some of the boring details, but I couldn’t help but notice that most of the diners were women.

At this point, we had our food, which was yummy, were on our second glass of wine, and feeling much better. Then, the lights turned off. Uh-oh, power failure? Dammit! Oh… not so much. Club lights began spinning around and the loud music kicked on. An Italian voice from the microphone announced: “It’s Tiffany’s birthday and we are gonna help her celebrate!”

Tiffany was seated in a chair in the center of the restaurant and was quickly being surrounded by the waiters taking off their shirts. One of the guys spread his legs and jumped on her lap! Tiffany was getting a full-on-grind-dry-hump in the middle of my dinner. My friend and I looked at each other and both had the light bulb… THIS is why the local guy enthusiastically told us we “would love this place.” That was the first and last time this vegetarian “had” Italian sausage during dinner.


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