A Night at the Uptown, Minus the Prostitutes
Barfly Be Thy Name – The Uptown
“Seedy, working girl bar” is the way I’ve heard the Uptown best described ever since moving to the city, but on a recent Friday night there wasn’t a lady of the evening to be found. I was meeting my friend Sabina, in for the evening from Oakland, and upon my arrival the place was overflowing from capacity.
I’ve been to the Uptown many times over the years, but I had never quite seen it like that, although to be fair, there was some sort of warehouse party going on next door, so the greasy-headed overflow was to be expected I guess.
The prostitutes came up in conversation many times over the course of the evening, and almost every friend and acquaintance I ran into was also wondering where they were. Most assumed the probable crackdown.
Popular at the moment, the Uptown may be, but thankfully it still feels like a skid row dive with drinks in flavors of gasoline and acetone to match.
The sweaty claustrophobia was beginning to make me panicky, so I angled outside for a cigarette, walking by a girl that looked like Louise Lasser from Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman.
Outside the conversation once again returned to the women of Capp Street and how they were nowhere to be seen. Again a raid was the general consensus, but my friend Paul started talking about Giuliani and New York. Let’s hope not.
The Uptown
200 Capp Street (@ 17th)
[Inner Mission]
photo from TheMakazine’s flicker account
