I love the City; I truly do. But sometimes I start to think that the snob factor is just way too high. Maybe it’s because I’m from good ol’ alternative Santa Cruz where we boastfully yell “Go home Trannies” [Trannie is a slang term for a transplant, ie. not a local] to people asking where they might locate the beach—admittedly a form of reverse snobbery—but I can’t get used to the uppity attitude of so many people around here. The food snobs, sure, they're my people; the designer brand snobs, also close friends; the Whole Foods snobs; the Marina snobs; the non-hippy hippy snobs, the higher education snobs, found all the way on the other side of the City where I believed there were no snobs, they all drive me nuts.
However, I’m not going to lie, I think I might just be better than those people. See, that’s where I’m a snob or at least was a snob. One long evening of drinking on an empty stomach can really change a girl.
I’d like to say that it all started innocently enough, but in truth, our company’s Halloween party had most of us drinking before 4:00pm. Post party we headed over to Voda, a vodka bar tucked away on Belden Place. Quite picturesque outside, less appealing inside. Nonetheless, we jovially sipped on (gulped down) quite delicious $3.00 happy hour Lemon Drops, before deciding we needed a change of scenery.
Okay, I’m a lightweight, which is great for the pocketbook and less wonderful for me when I’m out on a drinking night with friends. By the time we made it to Toxic, the Lemon Drops had done their trick. That trick being stealthily intoxicating me without my gag reflexes or mental capacities realizing it. Of course I immediately ordered a vodka tonic and decided that the gummi bears in glass bowls lining the bar (Haribo, no doubt. I love this place now) were a perfectly reasonable dinner.
Since it was just 8:30pm when we got there, the bar was nearly empty, and so we had only one choice but to continue to drink. Only some of us didn’t just drink. Some of us (as described the next day by witnesses) decided to dance rather inappropriately, launch a gummi bear war across the bar, and shamelessly sing karaoke at the top of our lungs. In other words, humiliate ourselves in public. I wish I could blame all of this on an alter ego, but alas, there is only me. Humbled and embarrassed me. Some of you may be used to nights such as this one, but I am not. I was shocked with myself and mildly disgraced.
Thus, I must leave my snobbery at the proverbial door, because I have to face it. I’m no better than anyone else; I can be a real idiot too sometimes. All it took for me to come to my senses was one night in this City with its vodka bars, gummi bears, and oodles of snobs. It just wouldn't be the same without us.
Please note I did pay for my snob prejudices all weekend...