Andy, Mikey, New Chris and I tried out a new restaurant I’d read about in the Chronicle.
I thought I lived in the ghetto.
Nope.
Farmer Brown is in the GD ghetto, and in getting there, we pretty much almost died. Chris and I picked Andy up, rushing to meet Mike already waiting for us at the bar. Farmer Brown is located at Mason and Market, so basically, it’s in an actual crack den, and Chris circled the block looking for parking. A one-legged, toothless hobo stood in the middle of the street, staring into the sky oblivious to the cars around him, Andy leaned forward. “Uh, Chris. Run over that bitch.”
Oh my god.
“Boys, we are parking as close to this restaurant as possible. I would give that guy’s leg for a parking place right now.”
We passed the restaurant again, this time blocked by ambulances and fire trucks rescuing a homeless, wheelchair bound crack whore. Like, right at the front door.
“You read about this place where?”
“The Chronicle, fancy pants. Relax. It’s urban, soul-food fusion.”
“In the ghetto?”
“I guess so. I’m, um, starting to get scared.”
Another hobo came into the street and started yelling at us, as what I believe to be a tooth exited his mouth and bounced off my window.
“Oh my god. That was awesome.”
With that, a pimp exited his parking space right at the front door. Yes!
“You guys are going to kill me. I have to go to the ATM.”
“Are you kidding me? I don’t really feel like getting raped today.”
Andy eyed the array of firefighters and paramedics standing around. “I do.”
We pushed our way into the restaurant to find Mike sitting at the bar, sipping a fancy vodka rocks and surrounded by a Benetton ad.
“Fabulous!”
Turns out, deep down Skid Row, there’s a wonderful new upscale soul food place, where we got stuffing and mac and cheese and fried chicken, with great lighting and funky artwork. It wasn’t that crazy expensive, either. And our server was the hot guy from the Chronicle, who, while a little too cool for school, is like 12 and owns his own badass restaurant. Plus, you get free cornbread and biscuits with pepper jelly. And a tooth in your window…
4 comments:
Awesome story. Well written
I remeber going to a show at the Golden Gate theatre down there YEARS ago with my parents and as we walked passed all teh adult "shoppes" with the "aids" in the window and mom made the comment
"I thought fireworks were illegal in the city?" "Fireworks?" "Aren't those long things in the windows fountains?" "Uh, one could call them that, when dad stops choking over there ask him..."
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