In 1992, I went to San Francisco for the second time to see my old friend Max. There I met John Bush. Neither name is important for the story but people seem to like it when I add the names. They lived on upper Haight Street in a three bedroom apartment. Across the street was a liquor store. Max and John sent me to pick up something. I came back with a six pack of Bud Light. It was the special. And a bottle of Goldschlager. Goldschlager has flaks of gold suspended in peppermint nectar of the gods. In the store when I pointed it out to the clerk, he said, "It's something frat boys and white girls drink." "You can't drink that," I said."It's got crap floating in it." Later that night we went to a show, Screw 32 and the Swinging Utters. Max was in the Swinging Utters so no one bothered me as I danced and spun around with my bottle of Goldschlager. After the show, back on Haight Street, the Goldschlager came back up and out. Between vomiting. I kept shouting, "It's the most expensive punk in the world. It's got gold in it. It’s worth money. We should save it!"