The Red Devil Lounge

1695 Polk (at Clay)

I hate Mtv. Wait, keep reading. I don't hate Mtv for the same reason that everyone else hates Mtv: because they put the Real World on the air. No, I hate Mtv because they put the Real World on the air, and I watch it. All the time. It's not that I in any remote way enjoy the show, it's that I think (and right now I am talking only to you, Mr. Real World producer) I would make a really good cast member.

In fact, I think I could be the entire show. All they'd have to do is send a few cameras to follow me around. I'd be great. I can get really pissy at someone every three months, I have sexual tension with all of my male friends (and I'm especially good at dragging it out without any hope of resolution), but most importantly, I'm penniless and under educated, yet I act like a spoiled, privileged brat with delusions of grandeur and occasional bouts of alcoholism.

My recent trip to the Red Devil Lounge threw me for a loop, though. My life is usually an episode of the Real World, but that night, it more closely resembled an episode of Road Rules. Specifically one of those bungee jumping episodes where a cast member thinks that jumping off a skyscraper is going to be a lot of fun, until they actually do it, and the camera gets the shot of a really cool what-the-hell-did-I-just-do look on their face.

Yeah, and I thought going to see Wonderbread 5 at the Red Devil Lounge was going to be fun, too. I paid the cover (six bucks, not bad), I checked my coat, and bought a beer. The bar was a little crowded, but as the Australians say, no worries. (I'd like to point out at this time that Australians are also known to say, "throw another shrimp on the barbie, have a Fosters, and let's play a couple games of Toss the Octopus" so I should really stop listening to them).

Suddenly, the bar started to fill up with what must have been every person in San Francisco who ever wore chunky black shoes, or a belt with jeans. Marina people, everywhere. And of course, I should've known better then to go to a bar on Polk Street with the word lounge in the title. My own fault, but still, you should've seen the look on my face when I realized that there were more of them outside waiting to get in. I never even got close to the bar again.

So, I don't know quite what to say about the Red Devil Lounge. I guess if you shop at the Gap, it's "The Place To Be." If you're into bungee jumping, this might be your kind of place as well. But if a sea of little back-packs and capri pants sounds in any way frightening, don't do it. Really, I'm warning you, don't do it! Well, at least not unless you can get a camera crew to go with you. Now there's an idea. The Road Rules in crowded bars. Do you think Mtv would buy it?

Melinda Whitehouse

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