The night is late.

The sign reads “Blondie’s Wet Spot Bar” and I am seated between two very handsome men.

I probably do not need this vodka in front of me, but Bacchus needs appeasing.

There is a taqueria. We came here on the BART.

I really do not know where I am.

This is not unusual for me – I often do not really know where I am, or even when I am. Life on the road.

We began the evening somewhere else – a patio – and some martinis, manhattans, and munchies later, we are now fast friends. We are Tribe. A casual observer would probably not guess this is the first time we’ve met. (more…)