Gung Hay Fat Bachelor Party

Every once in awhile, something so surreal, so strange, so David Lynch-esque happens that it makes you question everything you have ever known. Usually, this kind of shit happens in Chinatown.

Last night was Jim Gallagher's bachelor party. We started off innocently enough at a divey Chinatown dump called the Buddha Bar. After a round of shots and taking over the otherwise empty joint for an hour or so, we staggered onward to Specs in North Beach. Fun, but not eventful. We went back into Chinatown to hit the Green something or other on the corner of Jackson and Kearny. It was a great asian dive bar.

Then IT happened. Tom and Jeff guinea-pigged around the corner and simply said, "If you've ever loved David Lynch, you have to come to this place around the corner.". And so it begun...

We walked down the stairs into the dark, creepy entrance. We were then confronted with 50 or 60 couches, lined up back to back, lit in red, and filled with suspicious looking chinese people. On one wall was two huge screens, playing chinese karaoke, and in the couches were chinese men, singing romantic love songs in chinese to their girlfriends. So of course, we stayed for awhile. Just about long enough to almost get our asses kicked. We convinced several of the 'roaming dates' that it was Jim's birthday, made a few people want to get out their num-chucks and left.

If Blade Runner ever fucked Blue Velvet, it would be Club Lamour on Kearny.