I know that I moan about the soupy weather in the Sunset all the time, but deep down, I do love it. After all, we Sunset dwellers have the beach! And being near the beach means being able to go to bonfires on crisp (read: freezing) San Francisco nights.
Last night, some people from work decided to have a little bonfire on Ocean Beach, right across from the Beach Chalet. I met them there around 9:30, and found a rather pitiful little fire that was threatening to sputter out at any moment. Luckily, a few people from the group had gone to the store to buy ready-start logs, so we had a blazing fire in no time at all. We roasted marshmallows (which turned a kind of creepy, chemical grey from the ready-start smoke), listened to music on someone's cell phone, and tried to avoid catching fire every time the wind switched and blew the fire into our faces.
The beach was dotted with bonfires last night -- I guess everyone had the same idea we did -- and some groups were more rowdy than others. The raging bonfire next to us happened to belong to a loud, happy group of drunken hippies who set off fireworks every now and then. Actually, they weren't so much fireworks as explosives that made a lot of noise and scared the crap out of everyone. Nothing like drunk people, fire, bombs, and wind to make for a fun night on the beach, huh?
After an hour, I was getting cold and was about to go home when a dude in one of those goofy Bolivian knit caps ran by us yelling frantically, "COPS, COPS! Hide your booze!" It felt very high-school-party, in a bad way. Some kids in my group had a case of Tecate beer, so we covered it with a blanket, and then I got up to leave. Sure enough, when I climbed up the dune, there were several cop cars cruising ominously in the parking lot, warning everyone to vacate the lot and go home. That's just like the fuzz, going around crushing good, clean, explosive-laden fun on the beach.