The Zeitgeist of summer

The bedsheets are hot. The toilet seat is hot. Yesterday's bacon fat left in the frying pan to congeal is still viscous. Shampoo runs too freely from the bottle. And opening the windows only lets more tepid treacley blobs of hot air ooze through the house.

The Texan in me is quick to point out that it's only 85 degrees, but the fact is, San Francisco simply isn't built for this kind of weather. I own summer jackets, after all. But when a city without prevalent air conditioning gets a heat wave, staying indoors is only going to exacerbate the problem. So today, I'm taking a cue from the Germans, and spending this steamy sunny afternoon with friends in a beer garden.

Zeitgeist is an old friend, a tattered biker bar with a gravel-lined beer garden filled with dozens of picnic tables. Waitstaff are surly, the toilets will test squeamish stomachs, and just about the only thing you could do to offend your fellow customers would be to overdress.

The shadow of the freeway cools a few lucky corners near the fences, and the occasional breeze wafts cool air and bright green scents from the mobs of black-clad hipsters gathered around stacks of empty glasses. Dogs and people alike are drawn to the plumes of burger smoke from the kitchen window, and the beer selection is encyclopedic. And until the cool weather returns, this is where I'll be pleased to stay.