The place is decorated with faux Edwardian trappings, as if heavy gilt picture frames will efface the junkies and winos staggering up and down Sunset. A moot point. I doubt that they will be happy to see us again, after several contretemps with the bratty valets, and especially the troika of gaffes involving beer, chili dip and ranch dressing. You do the math. Scruffy O'Shea's is an Irish bar, oddly enough owned and staffed by genuine Irish men and women.
Tribute bands are big around here.
Walking in, Uncle Matt and I are horrified by the equipment we have to work with. Things work better after that. The crowd is appreciative, the night goes smoother than I expected. Afterwards, we hang with some of the Sun 60 posse and corroborate past lies. Off to San Francisco.