Saturday, June 23, 2018
Slept in. Breakfast tacos from leftovers. Patrick and I rode Muni to West Portal where we were forced to alight and transfer to a bus. Hundreds of others were already waiting as a packed double bus was about to leave. I had jokingly suggested to Patrick earlier in the day that we would be forced to alight; I know Muni too well, I guess. Just goes to show you that sometimes Muni is not the best way to travel to Pride Saturday. We walked down the block to get away from the zoo of angry passengers then ordered UberX for $20 before tip for a ride to the festival. We set our destination not too close so that the Uber driver wouldn't get stuck in traffic too much and walked a few blocks to enter the festival. This year there were two lines: bag and no bag. There seemed to be no specific designations regarding bags under 18 by 18 inches as there was in previous years. We donated $5 each and received stickers letting us get $1 off beverages at beverage stations. We got food at the place with the shortest line: a soul food food truck. Patrick had what they called a jambalaya but which he said was more of a shrimp creole. I had pulled pork with mac and cheese. The portions were generous for fair food; Patrick couldn't finish his, and I ate all mine, later feeling like I had eaten too much. Then we got drinks at a drink booth. We had looked at the drink menu and made our decisions and then when we approached the counter we were immediately told that there was only one kind of cocktail left: cranberry vodka, which was not the drink either of us had wanted. We got cranberry vodkas. We visited or got close to all three of today's stages and spent most of our time at the main stage hosted by Persia and Yves St. Croissant and where we saw sets by Ms. Nzuri Soul (very good but a bit off-key at times) and Femme Deadly Venoms (excellent). This is the first time I can recall seeing advertisements on the video screens. The first one I saw was for, of course, a pharmacy. A woman from France spoke for about a minute about something. The set by The Stud with a special DJ set by Siobhan Aluvalot had finished one number—Rock Lobster (terrific)—and the power went out seemingly on the entire stage. All three of the big-screen displays were dark, microphones weren't working. A man working what seemed to be the sound board looked like he was searching for the problem and couldn't find it. Persia and Yves St. Croissant tried to hold it together for as long as they could, but we lost interest after a while and wandered off. We walked from Civic Center to the Castro and dined at Fable: san pell for Patrick, tap water for me. We shared a little gems salad with beets and green goddess dressing. Patrick had the roast chicken with black rice and grilled asparagus. I had halibut with butter beans. No dessert. $82.31 before a $16 tip.