fifteenJoey Wooten snuck a half empty, half pint of Jack Daniels into an adult theater on O’Farrell. He drank, smoked cigarettes, and watched a comparatively well-produced film. About halfway through a rather stimulating scene of two guys on one girl, he heard a loud tick-tock, and a busload of Japanese tourists stood up as one and left the same way. A little later, he slipped the half pint back into the pocket of his gray, quilted jacket, left the theater and hobbled back down O’Farrell. He was the only person on the street, and a police cruiser slowed to look him over. He hacked up some phlegm and made a show of spitting it into the gutter. Cops were all over in this pit of depravity—he laughed out loud at that one—depravity, Japanese tourists!
The really sleazy, nasty, low places were
