From what I hear, warm evenings in San Francisco are pretty hard to come by, so when it is balmy out, the restaurants lining the Belden Place alleyway become an outdoor circus.
Having snagged a great seat at B44 with equally great friends, we merrily ate our way through small plates of tapas (the grilled morcilla sausage and paella were criminally good) and drank our way through bottles and bottles of wine. And some scotch. And beer. And tequila.
I don't remember the latter part of dinner, but I do remember that 7 hours later, I was running through the streets of San Francisco, dodging the taxi that was trying to chase me down.
They say San Francisco is a liberal town, but it sure isn't liberal in the "hey I don't have any cash for the cab fare so I'm going to make a run for it" sort of way. Now that I'm getting older, I find that anytime is a good time for exercise.
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