Music In San Francisco

I lived for a while in an apartment on Turk Street in San Francisco. Every so often Ian and Kris would drive up the coast in Kris' little red pickup with surfboards and guitars and come shack out at my place for a few days. We would play music and drive out to Ocean Beach and drink coffee. My upstairs neighbor, Phoenix, was an HIV positive "male witch" (he didn't use the term warlock) and would get all sorts of marijuana products legally. Kris and Ian used to get a kick out of going up the fire escape to Phoenix's place and looking at all his weird stuff. Phoenix loved the company and would repay it in THC pills. One Saturday night we were in my place playing music and having a real good time when suddenly Kris, seated at the table overlooking the street, yells out the window "Hey! Stop that! You can't do that!" in this kind of helpless stammer. We crowded around the window and watched as this girl in a puffy jacket used a bat to bash in the wind shield of this little black sedan parked on the street then jumped in an idling car and sped off. We were stunned for a moment and then we broke into hysterical laughter, aping Kris' helpless yalp.