crab sandwich

Last weekend, my brother Jeff and I headed into San Francisco to meet up with my good friend Jeb and his buddy Keith.

The original plan had us trying to scalp tickets for the Giants/Dodgers game shortly after Jeb arrived from SLC, but we all got sidetracked. Jeff and I were slow to move after our coed soccer game (which ended with an opposing player scoring a bicycle kick, if that’s any indication of the result), while Jeb was getting settled at his grandma’s house picking oranges in the backyard (they were delicious).

We reasoned to meet for an afternoon libation at Hotel Utah, a turn-of-the-century relic of the gold rush:

Gamblers, thieves, ladies up to no good, politicians, hustlers, friends of opium, goldseekers, godseekers, charlatans, police, fancy miscreants — they all visited The Utah. And that was when South of Market was just a lonely section of the San Francisco waterfront.

So, basically, we fit right in.

As Jeff and I were crossing the street to have a seat at the bar, I quickly took a few photos of the hotel front.

Jeff chuckled to me, “Did you see that half-naked guy in the window?”

I looked up. Nothing but an empty bay window. “Ha. No … but maybe I have evidence,” I smirked, shaking the camera.

Hotel Utah miscellany

We strolled into the bar. Crickets. Nothing but a long row of empty bar stools, vacant tables and a rather bored looking bartender.

“How’s it going?” I asked.
“SLOW!”

Yup. That about sums it up. We took a seat, ordered our drinks and waited for Jeb and Keith to arrive.

Me, Jeb, Keith.

After hugs and handshakes and a random game of Jenga, evidently the ball game got out because the four of us were suddenly surrounded by droves of thirsty dudes in Giants hats.

Our laughs got louder, but as our glasses got low, we reasoned it was time to get a move on.

Jeff. Unfiltered.

As we were taking our last sips, Jeb looked around …

“Is there a sign or someplace that says “Hotel Utah” or something?”
“Yeah. There’s a pretty cool sign on the outside that just says The Utah. Wait … I got a few photos. Actually … Ha … Oh man …”

I just hope that was a cooler and not a Foreman Grill or something.