Oh, the Phonebooth… that tantalizing first experience of the freedom of San Francisco culture, where the lights are reddish and the air is hazish. At the Phonebooth, everyone has mastered the art of smelling, breathing, and looking the other way while listening to the dubious jukebox selections of a diverse (in quality of music) crowd. I haven’t been there since my very first days in the Mission, although I lived a block away for the first 6 months, but some new friends are going through their self-characterized Phonebooth phase so we stepped inside yesterday at a happy hour sort of time. The very first fellow to greet me was a massive, beautiful coon hound with blue eyes. He was completely charming and sleek.
Being there so early, I got $.50 off my beer and the opportunity to admire the unique decor which includes: barbie doll chandelier, unidentified suspended skull, robot and Trogdor tattoos, and a pool table at the back. I was interested to learn that the inside-out smoking policy doesn’t go into effect until after dark, and I finally got to play some pool: two games and I won them both, which is how I know I was dreaming.
Link to more Mission Mission dive bar coverage.
Photo by pugetive