1:00 PM

i've never eaten at barbacco, and so my opinion of the place is entirely based on smell and sight. and it is commonly crowded with an overwhelming number of business people, and an equally overwhelming smell of too much fish. thursday was no exception.



objects in restaurant are more chaotic than they appear.

"hi," i said, "i'm here for a pickup."

i sniffed the air: too much fish again.

"okay," the host said, "under what name?"

"YOU'RE JOKING," a business man screamed, "it's got to be MY hotel umbrella!"

the host and i looked over to see a furious man, tossing through all the umbrellas by the door-- occasionally mumbling, "nope!" or "can't believe this" and looking to see if anyone had noticed him.

"i think it's under my name," i said, "steven."

"SOMEONE JUST COMES IN HERE AND STEALS MY HOTEL UMBRELLA!"

what the hell is going on in this city?

"and do you have your frequent diner card?" the host pretended nothing was going on.

"ABSOLUTELY IMPOSSIBLE! IT WAS MY HOTEL UMBRELLA. JUST STEAL IT! YEAH, OKAY, STEAL IT!"

for a brief moment, i wondered whether or not the man had any right to complain about having an umbrella stolen that was not technically his. even if he called it his, it still belonged to the hotel.

but i did my best to under-think everything and keep the event an in and out adventure.

"...i don't," i mumbled, "i'd just like to pick up the food... and get back to work."

"not a problem at all."

"OH, AND NOW I'LL GET ALL WET. WONDERFUL."

i think that experience is when i realized i am immeasurably more afraid of a business-suited man going berserk than any form of homeless man in any part of san francisco. i almost wanted to give the man my umbrella-- except it wasn't mine, it was my boss'. and i had to get out of that restaurant immediately.