I Couldn't Help But Overhear

Last night I was out to dinner celebrating my good friend's birthday, and we were in a rather cramped little restaurant. These are pretty status quo for San Francisco: due to ridiculously high rent prices for everything from studio apartments to storefronts, we pride ourselves on cramming the most people per square foot as possible everywhere. After all, we fit a population of 750k people into 49 square miles. That's a picture of the actual restaurant to the right there, and those tables at the bottom are about the layout of where we were.

So we're at this rather nice restaurant in a bank of four tables that are all maybe five to six inches apart. I'm talking I could barely squeeze my forearm between them if I tried. So, this means that it is nearly impossible to not overhear what is being said next to you. Plus, as my friend has a particular penchant for hearing what people around us are saying, we had a few laughable moments at the expense of those around us. And for that I apologize if these people happen to be reading this or have any clue in the slightest of who I am.

Now, the best part of the night was when the table to our left was in the midst of a heated discussion. See, there was some kind of Prop 19 discussion going on between a man and a woman seated next to us. Both were in the late twenties to early thirties range, and the man seemed to be an ardent supporter for legalizing marijuana. Personally speaking, I agree if for no other reason than the fact that here in SF it is so commonplace that it might as well be legal, and we can both lose the social stigma of it being an "illegal drug" as well as make a sweet amount of coin by legal sales. Still, he was amped up to the point that his female companion had to shush him a couple of times, most notably of which was after he yelled out "Come on, it's just weed!" Again, I have heard that argument hundreds of times from many people, but you have to admire the man's conviction given his surroundings.

Funnier still is the fact that I was relaying a few stories I'd picked up the night before. One of which involves a former high school acquaintance who has gone completely off the deep end and was just making no sense in his attempts to wander into conversations. I mean, come on, the guy called me one of the greatest DJs who has ever lived. Yup. The other story was a secondhand tale of some friends from high school and their bachelor party shenanigans which involved a lot of alcohol, a combined bill of nearly a thousand dollars at a strip club, and a friend who soiled his drawers in a drunken stupor, deposited his underpants in a nearby trash receptacle, and continued on partying, only to arrive at said strip club, and upon removing his pants in a private booth, realized that he was sans chonies. Granted, much of this tale was relayed in hushed tones, but still, I can only imagine what the people next to us must have heard. Guess this teaches me to go to a nicer restaurant where people can hear about the wild exploits of my friends.