Ok, here's the thing: I didn't mean to get a little too drunk at the conference after-party, but when your future husband is across the room and you need to work up the courage to talk to him, there's no choice but to use up all of your drink tickets and somehow find it deep in yourself to talk to the guy. Sure, he may be married and have what I would guess are the cutest kids on the planet...and I might as well be married, but what's the harm, right? Thankfully, I introduced myself before my speech became impaired, and thankfully he didn't think I was too big of an idiot to not ask for my business card. I'm pretty sure I did tell him he was amazing at least 3 times. Dammit.
(And in case you're wondering, the man I'm referring to is Christopher Simmons of Mine™.)
We left before I could do anything to make a fool out of myself and the obvious decision was to head to the House of Shields (oldest bar in San Fran and a frequent stop for Jack Kerouac). I ordered an (unnecessary) champagne cocktail and snapped the above photos while the bartender kicked out some guys for being too drunk. He told them the name of a club around the corner where they played hip hop and could dance. I think I fell in love with the bartender, too.
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