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reading tiger

Night of the Living Hipsters!

After a rather emotionally trying week, I decided to try and schedule an impromptu date night with G. and get out of the house for a few hours on Friday night.

I had the bright idea to head to the deYoung and maybe catch the Gaultier exhibit before it closed this weekend. I was aware of the fact that the DeYoung on Friday nights is a "happening scene," but I was not aware that I was walking into quite such a den of Living Hipsters. It was Sardine City. I should have heeded the signs when the two thin twentysomething ladies in sparkly cocktail-length dresses with plastic cups of wine in their hands boarded the elevator to the observation deck and snorted out of their nose that no, they weren't holding the elevator for some unseen party, thanks. They were immediately kicked back downstairs by the elevator monitor for sporting those plastic cups, which was satisfying.

After enjoying the view from the deYoung tower for a while, we bailed and headed back to the East Bay for dinner. Our first choice, Souley Vegan, was packed to the gills with Living Hipsters. This was unexpected and discouraging. We kept driving. We tried our (second) favorite BBQ joint. It was closed. It seemed we had no choice but to head into the heart of darkness, the home territory of East Bay hipsters everywhere, the pulsing center of hipsterdom Oakland-style -- Temescal.

We drove by Burma Superstar, which as expected was thoroughly infested with Living Hipsters. We checked in at Pizzaiolo, just in case. Even though the sun had set and the dinner hour was waning, it was an hour's wait for a table -- thanks to the thick-as-thieves presence of Living Hipsters. Fortunately for us, intrepid urban adventurers that we are, we had a backup plan. We opted for Ethiopian food.

Since Ethiopian is no longer considered exotic and trendy, we were seated right away and had a fabulous (and very spicy!) meal. Mouths humming, we headed home, dodging the Living Hipster pods shuffling from bar to restaurant to art gallery to bar. We made it home in time to tuck the girls in for bed.


Doesn't this mean you are a living hipster, or is that yr point?
If I were a Living Hipster I wouldn't've bailed on the exhibit, nor balked at waiting for a table.

Also, I am too old, too fat, too underdressed -- and I would've held the elevator.