3065 16th ~ (415) 558-9746

Prologue: 11:30-ish:
El Tin Tan — <cue=”dreamy musical effect”> It was the second night of the Holiday Lark III, 2007, when I walked into Coco’s Bar — a 100% Latino establishment — with only a whisper of a modicum of trepidation. Immediately upon the arrival, shortly thereafter, of one Dr. Black, what commenced was one of the most festive evenings that I can barely remember. (Someday, the notes I took that night will be deciphered and I will recount the riotous raucousness of that remarkable evening…)

The Hostess is NOT promising a similarly enriching experience at Et Tin Tan. (Full disclosure: I, myself, will probably just be pretty giddy to have gotten a parking space somewhere in the vicinity.) The Hostess is factoring in time for driving to the general locale, miraculously finding a parking space, and ordering a beer… in Spanish. Thereafter, I expect to leave El Tin Tan, more or less immediately.

Afterword: We had to take two cabs, and so we were a little discombobulated, and there was the arrival of Dottie P. which we were also awaiting … so The Hostess was, understandably, very distracted, but I did still notice that everyone in this Bar was staring at us. Not in an unfriendly way. But in a noticeable one…as in, “who the hell are these people with different skin color than we have and what are they doing here?”

The boys’ cab arrived.  We investigated the premises, which turned out to be a trio of a floor plan, strangely reminiscent of Eight: front bar, then a space with pool tables, followed by a dance floor (& dj).  Holly-Anne had figured out how to order a White Russian in Spanish, and so she was feeling like dancing, which the rest of us eventually joined her in.  (Holly-Anne’s dancing is pretty damn infectious.)  Especially, of course, Hooker Bait, who got his Barfly name when a certain lovely Latina lady crossed the dance floor for the express purpose of asking him to dance with her  Holly-Anne and Jessica Rabbit danced up some storms with the locals and The Hostess cut a rug with Salawesome!!!  After a while, we were all pretty much dancing together, and the Barflies were getting stared at less noticeably…

The Hostess was feeling strangely culturally ambassador-ish.  Big Easy concurred.  Dottie P. showed up and brought 2 free drink coupons, which were honored in full. The “Spree Through the E’s”  was officially amazing — priceless photos had already been taken — and not even over yet…

I was so intoxicated on $13.00 worth of tequila from Eight that  I confess that I don’t know if they have hooks (but I doubt they do).  Dottie P. says this is an El Salvadoran Bar (as opposed to a Mexican one).  I’m not sure what the difference is if you are 1 of the only 5 white people, or the only African-American or Middle Eastern person, in the Bar (which we were).

But I am sure about two things:

  1. Dr. Black sent me an e-mail with instructions to text him when I got to El Tin Tan.  I didn’t get the e-mail in time, so I missed him, but it definitely speaks to his character that he was willing to meet me there.  He is a gentleman, and a scholar, and would have probably been miserable at El Tin Tan, which I’m sure he knew anyway when he generously offered to meet me there, nevertheless, which is just one more testament to the awesomeness of Dr. Black (a phrase to which I am quite, quite certain he will object, but which I will not be retracting).
  2. The “Spree Through the E’s” was going, — strangely enough — swimmingly.  The Hostess was drinking a lot more beer than usual (i.e. ever), but still having a smashingly good time.

Big Easy had this to say about El Tin Tan:

El Tin Tan: The first bar I’ve been in where I was taller than most of the other men! The bartender didn’t know how to pull a beer, resulting in two glasses of foam. Also, they needed to clean their lines, as Dottie P’s beer was apparently skanky. Awesome music! And Salvadoran hookers, to boot!

You know what? As much fun as we had there, you should really thank us for going to El Tin Tan so that you don’t have to.

Finally, in the lady’s defense — and Hooker Bait’s — we have no actual reason to suspect that she was really a hooker.