Where to find/avoid tween-agers: An adult's night out in SOMA.
This is not generally the venue for snarkiness and curmudgeonly griping, but in this case it's just irresistable. In the interest of fairness, I'll say that the bad things I have to say about the Holy Cow may very well be the result of my (relatively) advanced age of 32. Maybe a 21-year-old would enjoy the top-40 hits of the '80s and '90s, the hoochie mama vibe, the leering, pimply, overly cologned boys, the tarted-up bartendresses and the weak yet expensive drinks. But someone of my ancient and experienced years may prefer better music, better drinks and a more mature crowd. Say, happy hour in a piano bar. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
How, you may ask, does a geriatric such as you find her way into such a den of putrid scents and camel toes? Well, my boyfriend and I were entertaining his sister-in-law and a girlfriend of hers. Unencumbered by children and husbands, the ladies had their party pants on and wanted to go dancing. Plus, this decision was made after a few junyard dogs and tangtinis at Butter, so we were all impaired enough to think that going to the Holy Cow was a good idea. And indeed, Butter is a good place to start. With it's diabetic coma–inducing cocktails (vodka and grape soda, anyone?) and its offerings of artery-calcifying foodstuffs (tater-tots® and chili with nacho cheese? Delish!) it'll warm you up for a night of frivolity faster than you can say regurgitation.
So, there we were, under the flickering glow of GLOW (Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling) on the overhead projection screen and we thought, sure, dancing! What a swell idea! And if one is on 11th and Folsom, then the first place one thinks of is the Holy Cow because you went there once while you were in college and you don't remember having a terrible time (you don't necessarily remember anything), and it's right around the corner so why not?
Oof. I'll tell you why not. Bad cologne, underraged patrons, sooooo many wannabee-a-lady-of-the-night-in-the-drug-dependent-way outfits on girls of substantial size. Little tiny beverages served by a girl with a skirt so short I worried about how her rear was positioned over the bottles in the speed rack. Then there was the fact that the four of us had at least ten years on every. Single. Person. In. The. Room. Nothing makes you feel older.
We abandoned the Holy Cow after an hour of bad dancing to bad music and train-wreck style people-watching and went next door to Wish, which was slightly more...sophisticated. Though, it seemed one of those places that wanted the beautiful people hoarding out front, waiting to be picked by the discerning bouncer to grace the bar with their supermodel looks and expensive taste in booze. There was no such crowd and the bouncer seemed reluctant to have to grant our less-than-vogue type entry.
Needless to say, by the time we got to Wish, we were feeling no pain. I remember having an intensely personal conversation with the sister-in-law's girlfriend (the details of which I don't recall) while the BF and the sister-in-law played jenga with the numerous votive candles on our table. The waitress would come by, dismantle their flickering edifices, give them some stern words about the difficulty of getting the wax out of the wood, take our drink order and depart. Repeat.
It was a night to remember... kind of.
Butter
354 11th Street @ Folsom
www.smoothasbutter.com
The Holy Cow
1535 Folsom Street btw. 11th & 12th
www.theholycow.com
Wish
1539 Folsom Street btw. 11th & 12th
www.wishsf.com
