The fog rolls in, and much of San Francisco seems deserted, but a four-block corridor of Valencia Street swells with summer interns, castmates, and a group of Canadian friends that met in elementary school.
There are all the quintessential night-out vignettes. Bargoers yell to be heard over the sound of Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club.” Twentysomethings in knee-high boots shiver while they wait for bouncers to scan their IDs (mostly California, some more far-flung).
But there is also an unexpected feeling of comfort: This is not a place where someone stumbles over the curb without a friendly stranger to call them a Waymo home. Couples doodle side-by-side at a communal art table. A solo man with a graying beard sips red wine at a candle-lit corner table.
It’s Friday night, and the Mission feels back to its pre-pandemic buzz.
The evening begins, as so much activity in the Mission does, at Dolores Park. Among the clusters of picnickers is a group of tech co-workers gathered around a cornucopia of Trader Joe’s snacks. They are in the middle of a game of card-prompted debate called “hot takes.” Want to play, one asks? Sure.
“Men have it easier than women,” one card says. Yes, everyone agrees. A motorbike speeds up the hill, tearing up the grass. “Is that legal?” someone wonders softly.
The motorcyclists come out every weekend. As they pose for a photo, one mutters under his breath: I hope the police don’t see this.
Further down Dolores Park’s slopes, dogs bound past a group of 27-year-old Berkeley alumni playing spikeball. In a city where an introductory question is often “Are you in tech?” Peter, Nick, Michael and Jake answer no: Operations planner for Caltrain, real-estate agent, social worker, and soon-to-be landscaper. They are considering seeing indie-rock band Drugdealer at the Chapel later on.
Across from them, another group celebrates half the cohort’s graduation from a two-year coding program. Each describes a different vision for the rest of the night: a low-key wine bar by the pier, dinner in the Mission (which has the best food, they agree), and clubbing in SoMa. Jorge Armenta’s home in the Marina will be their “launching pad.”
“I think San Francisco gives you a glimpse of the future … it’s a magnet for very interesting people,” says Armenta, 24, who’s originally from Mexico.
“I’m having the time of my life here,” adds New Yorker Michelle Glantz, 23.
Back on Valencia, locals rejoice over the reopening of Taqueria El Buen Sabor on the corner with 18th Street. After being closed for months following a hit-and-run in April, its line is out the door, as usual on a weekend.
“Welcome back, we missed you guys!” one customer beams when he reaches the register.
Over burritos, we strategize where to go next: Follow a birthday bar crawl to El Rio? Or squish into the always-crowded Mother? The plans are scrapped halfway down the block, when we are lured into The Drawing Room Annex at 780 Valencia St. by a live band.
Inside, people sketch, paint watercolors, and collage at tables that snake through the art gallery. Nicolas, who blushes as he explains he’s just filling in for his brother, serenades them as if he’s been doing this for years.
Professional musicians JC, 24, and Veotis, 22, listen from the corner. They’ve both been making music since they were kids; Veotis’ mom is a gospel singer, and he’s a pianist, composer and multi-genre vocalist.
It’s “a lot of work to eat every day” as a musician, Veotis says. Still, he plans to keep at it ‘til the day he dies: It’s “the only thing that keeps me from jumping off of something,” he said.
When asked what they usually do on a Friday night, one table of friends, who work for a company developing an at-home food composting system, laughs. “Stay at home,” one says. They do, however, plan to return to The Communal Table, which recently became an official weekly nonprofit community event where people can make art together.
“I do like going to the bar sometimes,” organizer Lian Morales says. “But I feel like this is just a great way to just make art and hang out. There’s no pressure to do anything.”
Visitors Camilo, 22, and Daisy, 21, say they also wandered into the gallery on a whim. The pair had spotted the event while looking for parking. “Any expression of art is important in the community,” Camilo says. We need “more third spaces” like this one, Daisy adds.
After passing 16th Street, it’s a chilly trek down a comparatively barren patch of Valencia to Zeitgeist on Duboce Avenue. The beer garden’s interior, however, is the opposite of balmy. It had been advertised as a bar of choice for visitors in town to see the System of a Down and Deftones concert in Golden Gate Park (by all accounts, the alt-rock version of Outside Lands). Concertgoers with neon hair and chunky platform boots answered the call.
Kate, for one, thinks she might be the groups’ literal No. 1 fan: She’s in their top 0.01 percent of listeners on Spotify.
Locals are there, too. Jen, Monika and Kristy, all women in their 40s, met in a mothers’ group on Valencia a decade ago, when their children were just a few weeks old. They’ve been hanging out at the beer garden ever since.
“We’ve been leaving our kids in the dust,” Jen says.
Today’s Zeitgeist is unlike the Zeitgeist of a decade ago. Weed hadn’t yet been legalized, Kristy says, so the place had a “pass the joint under the table” vibe. Back then, the women used to be “called ‘bitches’ and kicked out” by the bartenders, Monika adds. But now, they say, Zeitgeist has the nicest bouncer around.
By 10 p.m., when we leave the bar, pop-up taco stands start to appear. A slice of pizza has been abandoned in a planter box, and a lone cucumber surrounded by cigarette butts has mysteriously found its way onto the sidewalk. A man with a scraggly beard and an American-flag-printed guitar sways side-to-side. A passerby says to him: “You’ve got my vote.”
“It’s me or Kamala Harris,” he calls back.
Outside the beloved Panchita’s #2 — famous for its pupusas and 2 a.m. closing time — a group of locals convene after attending Terror Vault, a haunted attraction at the San Francisco Mint. Most are performers themselves, who keep coming back to the Mission for shows at the Eclectic Box, Roxy and Alamo Drafthouse theater.
Among them is Joshua Grannell, also known as Peaches Christ. Asked about the name, Peaches Christ responds: “That’s a famous drag queen in San Francisco!” Everyone bursts out laughing.
“The most famous!” one interjects. “She was on Salesforce during Pride Week!” another giggles.
Meanwhile, Jacqueline, 26, stands behind the counter of Panchita’s #2, taking orders. She has worked there since age 14, and now co-owns the business with her mom, who envisioned the restaurant as a place where people could sober up.
We almost didn’t make it into our next stop: The Make Out Room, on 22nd near Mission Street. We’re about to show one bouncer our author archives to prove we’re journalists when the other, Tom Heyman, clears us for entry — he was featured in Mission Local last October.
“You’d be surprised what people try to get in,” his colleague says.
The cozy club is lit with cotton-candy-colored lights that reflect off oversized metal ornaments dangling from the ceiling.
“Bold of you to bring a camera in here,” Monelle Benjamin, 26 says, tapping on my shoulder. She asks for a photo with her friend, Olivia Benson, also 26. They’ve been friends since elementary school in Manitoba, Canada, and chose the Mission for their girls’ trip because Benjamin loved it so much the last time she visited.
As the shutter clicks, the women dance, pulling strangers over to join them.
“A group of motorcyclists pose …”. Well, this isn’t really news to anyone who’s been out and about: They also ride their dirt bikes up and down Valencia and beyond, popping wheelies and such. A few weeks ago, I saw one homie filming the scene with a camera that very much looked like it must have belonged to a news crew once. As a side hustle, they’re picking fights: The other day, one dirt bike rider was caught on a dashcam crashing into a scooter sitting at a red light. Which prompted the dirt bike rider to attack the scooter rider? Posted on reddit for everyone to see. Well, I figure they’re headed down the same path that ended ten years ago when “Chicken Shit” attacked and killed an Uber driver on 101 by the CesasrC exit. But what do I know.
At any rate, don’t get drunk and try to mess with these kids, they’re just waiting for somebody wanting to play hero/police.
What a vibe!
Lovely vignettes, good work! I hope you do this for every other neighborhood, even the quieter ones. It’s a nice slice-of-life, and a good counter-narrative from the popular narratives from the outside.
I’m sorry but these reporters apparently weren’t here before the pandemic. I was. Valencia Street is better than it was in 2021, but it’s nothing at all compared to 2019. You have to ask people who were here.
I hope the nightlife recovers, and it is getting better, but bars used to be packed and restaurants were booked up on weekend nights, with people milling around outside hoping to get a walk-in table. It’s nothing like that now. And I’m not talking about 1946 — I’m talking about 2019.