Saturday night we were running late for the Oddball Films event we were planning on going to so, as we sat in traffic waiting to get across the bay bridge, we called Thatchery to see if there was something else to do. He was going to a friend’s birthday party at a Irish pub in the Mission called Wilde Oscar’s, so we decided to skip the films and meet him and Dave B. there.

The bar was filled with Oscar Wilde references: portraits, quotes, and, amusingly, a list of his books taking up a good part of one wall. The man himself, however, wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking here. I’m sure of it. In fact, he’s probably turning in his grave as I speak.

The music was a terrible mix of funk, R&B, rock… I wasn’t able to pick out a pattern to it. We did hear one Pogues song but even the memory of that was ruined when Michael Jackson came on a few songs later. The drinks were awful as well. Our first round of whiskeys came in small rocks glasses full of ice but only 3/4 full of alcohol. For our second round Sarai wisely decided to go with a Guinness but I wanted to give them one more chance to pour a decent drink. I tried to get a different bartender but she ignored me and the first one came over and took my order instead. My second whiskey was not only not full but actually served in a smaller glass. I was sorely tempted to stiff her but politeness won out and I left her a dollar anyway. I don’t intend to go back to this one.

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Tags: irish pubs