I completely forgot what the night life is like, and why I used to drive to Fumaris downtown just to buy shisha. Last night was a great reminder for both; WOMEN. I never thought Big Sean’s lyrics could be so relevant. But when the sun goes down, the portside streets of the Gaslamp District fill with all those fish they say are in the sea.

All the songs that repeat one word for the hook accurately depict what it all boils down to: ass, shots, everybody. Decked out women at Deco’s, silk straps running down bare backs at Bare Back’s, tipsy hoes at the Tipsy Crow (sorry, I just wanted another one). 

Last night was pretty great. A nice reminder of why people do what they do, and how they cut loose accordingly. I bought my first overpriced cocktail, save Vegas pricing, but then when you’re in the middle of the desert, you pay anything for L.A. Water. I saw firsthand how bars can be awesome or douchey— the people. You bump in to someone at Tipsy Crow, it’s a round of apologies. Not quite the same at McFadden’s, where your toes get stepped on and people call you rude when they knock their clumsy asses in to you.

I had my first bar side conversation with a beautiful girl. First her saying, “Oh, God, look at that. He’s sucking on her hair,” and, as stated, a drunk ass guy sucking on a blonde’s locks. Then the conversation turns in to introductions, and she ends her spiel with, “So why aren’t you out there dancing with some random girl?” And, thank God I brought some kind of game that night, so I replied, “The view is much better from where I’m standing,” a pause, a smile, then, “What’s your excuse?” The slight tingle of reverberating awesome as you wonder how the hell you thought to say that. And then reality in the form of a diamond ring on the left hand. But the talking continues for as long as you can take it.

Still, it was nice having an actual conversation rather than awkward glances and half smiles. The proximity a noisy bar affords, the feel of soft hair and a warm face pressing in to yours as you try your best to be heard over, “go stupid, go stupid, go stupid!” Thanks, Nina, for making it a memorable first night.

I would do it every weekend if they weren’t so damn determined to take your money. But I have this feeling that I’m going to be having a lot more adventures down town to blog about. For now, it’s recovery and trying like hell to get the smell of smoke off me.