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Folsom, take 2, day 1
Sep. 26th, 2019 01:45 pmGreetings from Wicked Grounds in San Francisco, the kinkiest coffee joint on the planet, I think.
It’s true: flying on Wednesday afternoon is the way to go: no crowds, no hitches. I watched the sunset from the BART platform at the Oakland airport.
But I had a reason for getting all settled in by Wednesday night: the last time I came down for the Folsom Street Fair, flight delays caused me to miss Bondage A-Go-Go, which happens every Wednesday night at the Cat Club. Here’s the tale of how I got there.
Look up Cat Club: 1190 Folsom.
Walk eight blocks to 11th & Folsom. In heels.
Realize I left my phone charging.
Walk eight blocks back to where I’m staying. In heels.
Get phone.
Call Lyft because fuck that.
Nice Lyft driver drops me off near *8th* & Folsom. Right in front of 1192 Folsom.
Enter Cat Club, get beer, ponder silliness.
I had a lovely time, though. It reminds me of the SIN night at Kremwerk, only in a bigger and better space, with more entertainment like aerialists & dancers, and people who will actually talk to strangers. Spoofs of Nazi arm bands, adorable trans people, barely intelligible kinksters from Manchester, and of course lovely ladies in latex, chains, and straps.
Yeah, San Francisco is extrovert heaven, which is one reason why I love it.
I’m recovering from a mild hangover with a salad and a fabulous coffee shake while Wicked Grounds’ staff, who look several different kinds of freaky, sing along with music from the ‘50s. That’s another reason: the vibe.
It’s true: flying on Wednesday afternoon is the way to go: no crowds, no hitches. I watched the sunset from the BART platform at the Oakland airport.
But I had a reason for getting all settled in by Wednesday night: the last time I came down for the Folsom Street Fair, flight delays caused me to miss Bondage A-Go-Go, which happens every Wednesday night at the Cat Club. Here’s the tale of how I got there.
Look up Cat Club: 1190 Folsom.
Walk eight blocks to 11th & Folsom. In heels.
Realize I left my phone charging.
Walk eight blocks back to where I’m staying. In heels.
Get phone.
Call Lyft because fuck that.
Nice Lyft driver drops me off near *8th* & Folsom. Right in front of 1192 Folsom.
Enter Cat Club, get beer, ponder silliness.
I had a lovely time, though. It reminds me of the SIN night at Kremwerk, only in a bigger and better space, with more entertainment like aerialists & dancers, and people who will actually talk to strangers. Spoofs of Nazi arm bands, adorable trans people, barely intelligible kinksters from Manchester, and of course lovely ladies in latex, chains, and straps.
Yeah, San Francisco is extrovert heaven, which is one reason why I love it.
I’m recovering from a mild hangover with a salad and a fabulous coffee shake while Wicked Grounds’ staff, who look several different kinds of freaky, sing along with music from the ‘50s. That’s another reason: the vibe.
