A Dozen years ago, I stumbled across a telltale scene in my apartment. A pair of voices emanated from the shower, my room was, literally, fogged up, condom wrappers littered the floor, Marvin Gaye played on the sound system, and a bone dry bottle of wine was on its side. I suspected my roomie had fallen into some luck -- and my hunch was strengthened when he subsequently married the girl and had two kids with her. I'm perceptive that way.
Now, the above scene caught on Haight appears to be the remnants of a wild night of margaritas: An empty case of tequila and a blender box. Open and shut.
Sadly, none of the delicious alcoholic beverages were there for the taking when your humble narrator chanced across this tableau. On the good side, however, neither was any margarita vomit.