Guess where we were last weekend!

Yessir we were in San Francisco for a super duper wedding! It happened on Saturday afternoon and the weather was pretty much perfect out at Crissy Field. Good food, good people, and good fun all around!

Friday afternoon when we landed at the airport in San Francisco we were pretty hungry. It was Tammy’s birthday and we had plans for a fancy dinner after we got to the hotel.

We went to Chaya and ate like kings. I got the rib-eye and Tammy had the seared tuna fillet. We also started with a Red Dragon Roll sushi appetizer which was so good we almost considered cancelling our orders and just getting sushi. Luckily the food was fantastic and the service was top-notch! Tammy finished finished everything off with a glass of dessert wine and I even had a snifter of Courvoisier! I’m smoove like that.

Chaya is right on The Embarcadero which means it also has a great view of San Francisco Bay and of the Bay Bridge. It was very romantic!

By the time we finished our dinner the sun had gone down and it was still pretty comfortable outside, so we decided to walk back to the hotel rather than take another cab. It was a nice night and the hotel was less than a mile away, so we linked arms and headed south along Howard Street through downtown San Francisco.

As we turned past a dark corner I thought I felt someone brush past me. I didn’t think much of it until two seconds later when I felt something poke me in the back. A gruff voice from behind me said “Give me your wallet, Man. I ain’t jokin.”

I could feel Tammy tense up but I was one cool customer. At that point I just did what I had to. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my black sunglasses and put them on. I whispered “Not today motherfucker.” Not today.

I elbowed this guy in the stomach and felt his ribs break one after the other like ice cubes snapping in a glass of water. Before he knew what was happening I spun around and used the flat of my fist to uppercut his face into oblivion. Blood spurted from his flattened nose as he fell back onto the sidewalk, howling in pain. He was still moving though, so I roundhouse kicked him to the head, and a second time right in his junk. He lay in the street curled up, moaning in agony and I figured he had learned his lesson.

I turned to Tammy and said “Let’s leave this trash in the gutter where it belongs,” grabbed her hand, and turned to walk back to the hotel.

As we started walking away I heard the unmistakable flick of a switchblade. Without thinking I pushed Tammy to the right and I jumped to the left, just in time to avoid the tip of a three inch blade as it rushed through the air between us. I changed my stance with a quick hop, grabbed the arm holding the blade and twisted it back deep into the guy’s stomach, just as I had practiced a hundred times before. I pushed long and hard until the tip of the blade poked through his back, then I looked in his eyes and said “Now you’re starting to get the point” before releasing him with a flourish. He fell to the ground and I watched as his grey hoodie started to stain with the unmistakable deep burgundy that only a mortal wound can release.

At that point I knew I had the guy in a bad spot but he must have been high on crack or some shit, because he jumped up AGAIN, whipped out a .38, and started waving it around like nothing happened. Through streams of blood across his face and dripping spit he shouted “You gonna regret that, mothafucka! I’ll kill you!”

He pointed the gun at me but at that point he was pretty shaky and it looked like he didn’t have the strength to pull the trigger. In a situation like that you don’t really have time to think, so I grabbed a passing homeless guy’s brown paper booze bag and used it to whack the gun out of his hand. Finally he dropped to the sidewalk in pain and begged me to leave him alone.

I looked down on him with the streetlights behind me, paused for a minute, then said “Aww. Baby needs his bottle.” I yanked the bottle out of the paper bag and cracked it over the guy’s head. It shattered on impact and a few seconds later as he lay motionless on the ground a dizzying mosaic of red cuts began to appear across his face. “Looks like my 40 beats your 38.”

At that point this guy was done. Kaput. He lay sprawled on the ground in a quickly-growing pool of his own blood. It was then that I noticed the top of a rolled up $50 bill sticking out of his pocket. I picked it up and asked the lifeless body before me “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that crime doesn’t pay?”

Tammy and I didn’t say much on the way back to the hotel, but when we got to our room she looked at me quizzically and asked “Who ARE you, Brett Dunst?” To which I replied “I’m only a man.” I sighed. “A man who loves you.” Then I ripped off her dress and we made passionate love on the bed.

I may have gotten some of the details wrong, but that’s pretty much how Friday went.

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