are you the one

Monday: “Oh my god, let’s go see the Presets”

Tuesday: “You know, we could just rent a car to do it”

Wednesday: Initiate On-The-Road Sequence!

He called me the second he got out of his final to make sure I could be at the rental place on time. The nervousness in his voice was palpable; he wasn’t sure he’d be approved. As I got of the bus, bracing against the wind, I noticed a red Acura with the tail end ferociously truncated- not a good sign. He seemed like a little boy in his dad’s clothing as he leaned against the counter and I felt the helmet in my bag, hoping I wouldn’t have to use it.

And then Veronica came in and said the car would be around in a few seconds.

O Veronica! How lovely thou name dost sound. You delivered unto us a lovely 2007 Hyundai Elantra and for that we will be forever grateful, because we jumped right on in and hit the road. We stopped in Vacaville to try on awkward sunglasses and grab drinks, and from there we sped on down to SF. Upon arrival we did something entirely predicatable and headed to the mall.

I first went to the Union Square Mall when I was around seven; a friend of my mother’s was obsessed with Nordstrom’s, and even though there was a perfectly servicable one in Sacramento, we would sometimes all pack in and head to the Union Square one. I hadn’t been there in well over a decade, but it was still rife with admittedly fuzzy memories. The problem was, though, that because of the aforementioned friend’s obsession with “Nordy’s”, as she most aggravatingly referred to it, there was a whole section of the mall I had never seen before, that being the food court. He got a turkey sandwich and I got gelato; we shared because they were both delicious. Expensive, but delicious… which, come to think of it, fairly accurately describes everything about San Francisco.

We parked closer to the venue; while I remembered it as being above Market, it was actually between Market and Mission and we had parked exceptionally out of the way. From there we got lost. Not having Alyx as our sherpa meant we really had no idea how to find a venue hidden away in a scary alley surrounded by razorwire, but we finally succeeded and began standing in line at Mezzanine. As with the Dolls concert, there were people in the single digits when we arrived, and so we got a good spot.

While in line I bullshitted with Anton and called my friend Ashley. More on that later.

The doors finally opened and we were instantly impressed by our surroundings. Mezzanine doesn’t look like much from inside, but the inside is superhip and modern, the lights are great and the loft area is superb. When one is used to going to clubs that consist of essentially two rooms, one of which has speakers, one of which has a bar, and both of which could fit a maximum of 200 people, you’re mildly blown away by a club that has:

12,000 square feet		24′-20′ stage for bands, art/fashion shows DJs, and dancing
18′ exposed wood ceilings		Box office facilities
Indoor/outdoor smoking lounge		Fully equipped DJ and lighting booth
2,200 square foot energy-resilient dance floor		2 dressing rooms with private bath, kitchen and laundry facilities
5 full-service bars		400 AMP 3 phase electrical service
2 Levels: Main floor with over 7,600 square feet of open space Upper level with 4 plush mezzanine lounges or meeting rooms with seating, including a separate glass-enclosed space with its own DJ booth and a discreetly positioned VIP area		Custom-built sound system for both live and electronic music
		DSL – T1 capability
		Easy street level load-in

(source: mezzaninesf.com)

We settled into the balcony area and I bought us some drinks… which were way too expensive for their size. Note to self, don’t buy drinks in SF during a concert. They were pointless anyway, as any sort of intoxication I could have gotten was blown away by the craziness I was to experience later. As I nursed my drink, I slowly got the urge for a cigarette- i hadn’t had one all day- and so we ventured into the smoking area. I was trying not to smoke around Anton, as his throat had been completely destroyed by staying in the Powerhouse’s smoking, well, box, for hours and then screaming his lungs out at the Dresden Dolls concert three days previous, but my willpower was winding down. It was a good thing I did, though, because as it turns out there was someone else on the smoking patio: an old friend of Anton’s that he hadn’t seen in years. They proceeded to freak out over each other and I turned to her friend and introduced myself. After about twenty minutes of the four of us conversing I decided to check in and saw that the opening act, Walter Meego, was playing, so I grabbed A and we started watching. Walter Meego was actually totally rad. Unlike the Dolls’ opening act, the Vermillion Lies, we genuinely enjoyed their set (and later obtained their first full-length album when it was released this week). As their act wound down, we got closer to the stage and staked out our spots for The Presets.

The Presets were AMAZING. The energy started as soon as they got onstage, and didn’t let up until after the encore. I’m convinced they played every single song from both of their albums and they were all fantastic. This is of course further bolstered by the fact that we were expecting a DJ set, but instead got a live performance- those two aussies had electronic backing of course, but the drums were live, the singing was live and the girls who jumped the stage were definitely live. There was definitely an incongruous crowd, but whether they were the obnoxious blonde bimbos to our left or the phalanx of bears to our right they were all united in there love for the driving synth and pounding bass that was being delivered straight from Sydney. Even the girl in the wheelchair. I must say though, that my favourite crowdmember was the tiny asian girl who was fucking SLAMDANCING through everyone’s jumping. A and I were no exception, of course. In fact, he was going so crazy that his glasses flew off his head and I had to save them from the crowd. I’m really glad I’ve retained my skills at doing that sort of thing because not only did I return them unscathed, I also found a pile of Presets stickers on the floor (currently, one is adorning my laptop, another is adorning A’s, and still another graces his scooter). Score!

After a quick recon to try and find A’s friend we staggered out of the club and back to the now-very-conveniently-parked car. From there, we went down to Ashley’s place, located in SF State’s apartments. We spent a couple hours chatting and reminiscing and having fun… and then Anton looked at his phone and it was four. So of course we stayed another hour cooking and eating chicken before we left.

The drive home wasn’t as fun, but it was a minor thing. I had to deal with cranky A and he gave me this bullshit about being sick of me. To which I replied that anytime he didn’t want to hang out with me he doesn’t have to, and that my life doesn’t revolve around him. Which, quite frankly, he should know by now. I don’t know. I knew that it was less that he was actually sick of me than he was just tired and cranky and wanting to start shit. He gets in these moods every once in a while and there’s a subtle change in him, but every time I’ve noticed the change in tone instead of what he’s saying, I know that I just have to wait a bit and he’ll forget all about it. Which goes against my confrontational nature, but obviously he’s not equipped to handle the blunt trauma of really arguing with someone. One day it will happen… I just hope it isn’t with me.

We got back to my place and made a valiant attempt to stay awake before we crashed, A holding his Macbook like a stuffed animal. Fortunately my alarm went off and I resisted the urge to try and have sex with A and ended up just scratching on him a bunch to get him to wake up. He got the car back in time, went in to work, and everything was fine.

So, we did something crazily irresponsible and wonderful and had a great time with no repercussions. We rule.

Next time on No More Fucking DJs: The Beast Who Came To Dinner.