"MAN DIS WAS 1 OF MY FAVORITE SHOWS HERE!!! BARBRA ENDEN WAS "SEXY" AS HELL HAHAHAHA!!!!!! MN WISH I HAD A JEANNE LIKE DAY!!! WHEW!!!" -- Facebook post about I Dream of Jeannie from one of my old high school classmates, Jan. 9.
Most people avoid old classmates on Facebook, but not me. I love to get the updates from the super-Christians, the Republicans, the avid bicyclists, the homemakers, the gangstas, the divorcees, and the antisocial psychopaths who were all in my class.
The fellow I have quoted above did not strike me as being completely fucking dumb in high school, but he has definitely proven himself as such online, much to my morning coffee routine's delight. This post made me spit out my Philz, and I spent the rest of the day muttering "Wish I had a Jeanne like day, whew!" under my breath whenever I saw something I liked (cute dog, cute baby, cute cupcake).
Maybe it was the vision of Barbara Eden (sorry, "Enden") in my head that led me to Aub Zam Zam in the Haight. Once inside I always feel like I am in her bottle-boudoir, which is not an entirely pleasant thought. On the show she was usually banished to her bottle when she was bad, or she went there to hide from mortals she wanted to avoid. She had many feelings churning inside her in there. Bars are the same for me. I love having a place to escape, but I also like the freedom of leaving my confines and breathing in the outside air.
I was actually heading up the street to go somewhere else, but Zam Zam called to me. "Wish I had a Jeanne like day, whew!" I ducked inside. The interior is round and casbah-ish, and the music is generally from about 60 years ago, which is A-OK with me.
The storied history of this place is that it was once run by a now-deceased curmudgeon, prick, or asshole, depending on whom you talk to. My experience with guys like this is that their legend is usually exaggerated. Sure, they were dicks to a lot of people, but have you ever been in a bar? Dicks make up about 60 percent of the clientele. It takes a dick to serve a dick. If you enter a bar with money in your hand, sit down and order a basic drink, and keep your yap shut, you might even grow to like these guys -- and they you. Sadly, the grisly specter of customer service has invaded our town, and shithead bartenders don't last long anymore...