Well, turns out I have another story. This one wasn’t personally as scary as people throwing plates, but was just as crazy.
On our way to New Zealand we planned to leave from San Fransisco since both RB and RD were living there at the time. I wrote stories about it here, here, and here. (My old writing cracks me up – then I remember it’s about the same as my current writing…)
We went to a bar one night (well, we went to many bars all the nights) where the R’s got us to drink Fernet. If we’ve ever forced this on you, it’s their fault. We were sitting around coughing and drinking Sprite to try to get the taste out of our mouths when a giant dude ran through the front door and apparently out the back alley. Then the cop car pulled up and the cop ran through the bar. Then I think apparently he had a friend back there that they arrested and escorted out that was wearing the same coat the guy had run through with but was totally not the same guy…Rumor was the bad guy had robbed someone at gunpoint if I remember correctly. *shiver*
So that was the first time I saw cops in full pursuit of a suspect. Running through a bar. And getting the wrong guy. As I drank. Huh.