by Patch O'Furr
“Fast food meets slow news day”
San Francisco’s original furry dance party is a thirsty place. Besides for watching Fluke Husky and panting. (Or being pantsless… like an innocent toon character of course). Every first Saturday at The Eagle, I get sweaty from jumping around in a big rug with sweet tunes. It makes me need a Squirrel Pop or five to cool off.
Then it’s drunken feasting time. That’s when food tastes like it looks in cartoons, where mice dive into bowls of jello and eat cheese wheels from the inside out.
At 2 A.M. when you’re still bouncing out the door, if the booze in your belly needs a friend, Crepes A Go Go is the go-to place. (Or was.)