Even though it has very little to do with the night out, I can't seem to have one of these photo albums online without throwing in some pretty nature shot, so here's the obligatory tree. But natural beauty is soon overcome by the bright lights of urban hustle and bustle, which suited the mood of the night much more nicely.

For starters, no, this is not my car. However, we did execute Friday night's adventure in San Francisco in style, arriving in this most pimpin' of rides. Of course, it's overkill (and frankly, quite out of place) to pull up to a low-key, run-down club in the city's Tenderloin district in a luxury sports sedan, but I don't think my beater Civic would've made the 30 mile trek. For the uninitiated, the 'Loin is peppered with numerous adult "arcades," toothless crackheads, and nothing resembling valet parking.

Our destination - Club Six - isn't much more plush on the inside than its harsh Tenderloin exterior, which is just how we like it. As one of SF's few established clubs that has maintained its underground vibe, Six's location and lack of refinement tends to scare off the uppity crowd. Little do they know what they're missing out on. Upon entry, patrons are treated to the mind-boggling visuals projected onto the lounge walls by a series of slide and 16mm movie projectors.

There's plenty of music, but only the thump of bass is audible over the dull roar of people's voices in the lounge. To access the dancefloor, you have to descend the dark staircase that takes you into the literally underground club. Getting around sometimes requires nightvision worthy of Special Forces units scouring Afghan caves.

On Friday nights, Imperial Dub takes the club over with their sharp DJs and intriguing decor, softening the usual blacklights with translucent cloth making for a surreal atmospheric effect.

The crowd is always diverse and laid back, meaning that you can go up to just about anybody in the place, making interesting new friends in the process.

The place attracts people from all over, as well... Angie (Sacramento) hangs with Laura (Berkeley)... Kelly and Tony made the drive out from Sactown as well... and Andrew hails from Australia. (Ok, ok, so he currently lives a mile from me.)

As you can see, Dave & I put aside the usual serious faces and just had a good time. Though, being under the ground, it gets seriously hot at Club Six. Fortunately, there's plenty of free water to be had. Dave uses the proper, polite pouring technique, while Paul gingerly demonstrates the massively overheated raver method.

Of course, a partier cannot live on water alone, and the bartenders at Six make certain that their cocktails won't be mistaken for water by anyone. A couple of Jack-and-hardly-any-Cokes into the night, and my Japanese roots were showing.

Anybody who knows me will attest that I rarely make a face like this - unless a drink is really damn strong. While my face was turning green, someone's hair did as well. Naturally, after a moment of imbibing wussdom like that, it's necessary to regain composure and put on the tough guy face for a moment.

A little background here... Last week, Dave dropped his Canon, effectively killing the LCD screen. So all night, we were guessing as to whether the flash was on or off, what settings we were using, and what on earth the pictures would look like. Needless to say, we ended up with some cool effects.

Ah yes, more drinks... but they already had last call! What do do? Our bartender friend here was wearing a Villanova jersey. Conveniently, it was the eve of the UCLA-Villanova basketball game, so Dave & I (being faithful Bruin alums) had to talk some smack. Bonding over NCAA b-ball, Villanova-man hooked us up with a pair of barely-making-the-legal-time-limit Jack-and-Practically-No-Cokes. He must have bought some karma for his team. 'Nova won by one point in an upset the next day. Grr. Maybe we should have commented on other people's shirts instead.

Back on the dancefloor, the Imperial Dub DJs were keeping things groovin' with an eclectic mix of house tunes that eschewed the usual 4/4 all-night stomp for a much more interesting -and highly danceable - blend of beats that makes Friday nights worth the extra $5 cover. (It's usually $5 anyway.) As a homebrew DJ who's got a taste for the eclectic, it's always heartwarming and encouraging to see others who don't necessarily stick to one genre all night.

Eventually, I was starting to blur out. 4 a.m. had rolled around, and it was time to head back up the stairs and toward the glowing exit sign. Throw in a little early morning scrambled eggs at a Sunset District diner and you can say that we had a very well-rounded night out.