Underground Gems of North Beach.

The streets are filled with lovely French and Italian accents as I walk down the busy streets of North Beach. For once I find meter parking and so I decide to walk aimlessly around the neighborhood. Unfamiliar eyes meet with mine and throughout the whole time I think to myself, "just let go of that silly paranoia." I soon hear the inviting sounds of jazz and follow it into a small record store. The place is filled with used records and I feel like a kid inside a candy shop. I find a couple of good death rock records, some interesting-looking international records and a bunch of jazz and blues records. I pick up an old Simon and Garfunkel record to relax myself during the restless winter nights and I keep on searching. Finally I hit the jackpot as I see Led Zeppelin III staring eye-level at me. The cashier, Brian Finnley, talks to me about the store (101 Music) and suggests some places for me to visit on my next trip back.

I keep walking against the wind to the library, where I try to check out a history book about the neighborhood of North Beach but sadly find that it's already being checked out. The library is quite small and offers a slim but diverse collection of books. I start to head out and meet my friend at the Stinking Rose, where we share a garlic pizza and a giant sundae. I try to strike up a conversation with the server, but have little luck. Then we walk back out onto Columbus Ave. and I decide to go into a bar that caught my eye last time I was in the neighborhood.

I drag my friend into Specs' Twelve Adler Museum Cafe, where I last saw an intriguing older gentleman with a black coat and a top hat. Inside there was a diverse crowd that had many interesting people that caught my eye, interesting in the eccentric way that they dressed and in their distinguishing facial features. I talked to the bartender who was rather informative in discussing the decor at Specs. The place can be described as a dive bar, but there is much more to it than just that. The bartender, Mike, who refused to give me his last name or contact information, told us that the bar was named after the owner Specs Simmons and is filled with "things that belong in a museum or in the back of people's garages."

There is also a note hanging in the frame of a wall that was put inside a bottle by an old bartender who worked at Specs. The bartender threw the bottle into the ocean with a note that asked whoever may find the bottle to send it back to the address at Specs. After some time, a man in Thailand found the bottle and did just that. The bar is also filled with clever bumper sticks, one which reads, “The son of a bitch down the bar from me should write himself a suicide note, so that what he forgets to do tonight, he can accomplish tomorrow.”

The night grow bitterly cold and I walked out with every intention of coming back.