While bar hopping in North Beach with six others on Friday night, one person led us to "blend," claiming that it was a great place to hang out. We trekked all the way down to the corner of Columbus and Filbert to the site of Frankie's Bohemian, which still runs the food window attached to this new lounge/bar.
To enter the door, we had to exert extra physical effort to overcome the barrier of blaring, and bad, music. Inside were several staff members and three customers: a woman, a man making out with that woman, and his no-longer-needed wingman. We approached the bar and waiting for the bartender to finish what she was doing and take our drink order. She continued to shovel ice from one bucket to another. This task was apparently too important to be delayed. Eventually another bartender came out and grudgingly took our order: several beers and a couple of simple cocktails. Drinks arrived, were paid for plus tip, and we took a seat. The first bartender continued to shovel ice; one person in our group claimed that she had reversed directions and was shoveling the same ice back into the original bucket.
Several in our party had gone to the restroom during the ordering ordeal and reported that the restrooms were covered--floors, walls, fixtures--with urine and trash. A girl in our group asked the DJ to turn the music down just a little, so he momentarily turned it off, then back up even louder than before, all the while smugly staring at her. Suddenly, the lights turned all the way on, then on and off several times. A few seconds later a guy came out, walked up to the three other customers, clapped right in their faces and pointed to the door. Then he stood in the middle of the room looking in our direction, again clapped and pointed to the door. Quick frankly, none of us had any desire to remain one second more so we all quickly left. I was too much of a gentleman to do what I wanted to do--tip up our table and spill our half-finished drinks upon the floor. But I and the rest of our party weren't so polite as to not yell obscenities at the staff on our way out. The first bartender continued to shovel ice.
All seven agreed that the 10 to 15 minutes inside of "blend" were the worst minutes we had ever spent at a food or dining establishment in our lives. These people were so rude that I was convinced that the only explanation was that the owner told them earlier in evening that they were going out of business at that they would all be fired at the end of the night. I fully expected to see the door locked and windows papered over when I ran an errand in North Beach earlier today. But no: they are still open for business; presumably still shoveling ice.
But not for much longer, I suspect.