One Woman Revival

I have a habit of rallying friends on a beer related excursion about once a year. This started when I lived in London and learned of the Bermondsey Beer Mile, a loose assortment of breweries with limited open hours on the weekends. But now I live in a different overcast city by the sea, so I planned a gathering at Southern Pacific Brewing in the Mission with friends from around the bay. I had noticed that the realms of parents and non-parents were diverging so I wanted a find a place for everyone to hang out together. This brewery allowed children and we nabbed a long table under a hefty tree in the front patio, its branches formed a canopy which sprinkled us with acorn-like seeds but also shaded as the day got warmer. 

I sampled the California Blonde Ale but settled on a Mexican Lager with a lime. To my disappointment there was no Hefeweizen on tap and I noted that beer selection at the nearby Crafty Fox Ale House (which happens to be British pub themed) was much more exhaustive. No one else seemed to mind the lack of variety but I am particular about bars. Since moving to SF three years ago, I have sampled a wide array of drinking establishments due to my compulsion to keep busy at all costs. 

In the months after my husband passed away, I felt a constant urge to keep moving. It was the worst on Fridays in the lead up to 5pm. I would feel a restlessness that I could not contain pushing me to get out the door and go somewhere. There were many evenings when I would go to several bars on my own as an excuse to not stay at home with my thoughts. I would send a scattershot of texts to see if anyone was available to join but regardless of response, I would head out. I often started at the Wine Down which stores “Blackout Bingo” cards for patrons to fill up as they go through the menu. From there I might make up my way up through SOMA, stopping at the newspaper themed Local Edition on Market before ending up at bar in North Beach like Mr. Bing’s. Sometimes I talked to strangers. One lady holding a table for her friends, a group of coworkers at an AI meet-up, two guys who ran a barbershop. All perfectly nice but none of them I ever saw again. I would reach the last bar on my own and once sat crying with glass of rosé in 15 Romolo. In many ways, grieving feels like being stood up again and again.

When I did go out with friends, there were some memorable evenings. One of my favorites was showing up with eight ladies to the Top of the Mark where we downed martinis and started a dance party. Another time, a last-minute invitation from neighbors in my apartment building led me to dancing the night away at Monroe. And some Saturdays when I walked back from a bad date or just a night out, I would stop at Novela and dance by myself. I do not hold it against anyone who wanted to call it an early night or not go out at all. But I was a train that had left the station and could not slow down. 

A day after the one-year anniversary of my husband’s death, I met two friends at a then new rooftop bar called Cavaña. We admired the sweeping views of Mission Bay and imbibed elaborate cocktails. I had insisted I could only have one drink but somehow ended up outlasting both of them. Even though I had to work the next morning, I honed in on a midtown bar called Harlan Records and walked there from SOMA. I had previously been to this bar when it was a stand-up venue but now it had been renovated to a be a classy, music-inspired lounge. I think my late husband would have liked it. But of course, he was not there.

When the hangover hit me the next morning, I ruminated on why I could not just call it a night. My instinct was to run from my pain but this flight response was not helping me. It took a lot of effort for me to learn to rest. Like an overactive toddler, my mind would make excuses for going out or finding something to do. And when I found stillness, sadness swept in fast behind it. But I needed to feel that sorrow. Not to numb it. And then slowly I started to recover. Now I can appreciate not only afternoons spent goofing around on a shaded patio with good beer and even better company, but also the evening before when I ordered take out and just stayed in.