Sublounge

To quote 80s suck metal band Cinderella, ya don’t know whatya got till it’s gone. Most probably because it was tucked in a tidy corner of Nowheresville.
I like this place a lot more than it deserved. It was there that I bought some bad, expensive skateboard art from a beautiful «artiste.» It was here that I had a handful of pungent brownies which turned out be more special than they tasted. Which turned out to be two days before drug testing. Thanks Sublounge!
I remember Roy the Bartender, one of the only real regular guys that tend bar in the City. Hope you snagged that cruise ship gig, man.
I’ll even miss the clientele and ownership who turned out to be the remnants of the dot com boom. You were hip, you were briefly rich, you were aimless, you are remembered.

A couple of years ago, I attended a pre-​Decompression event at the Sublounge. A pre-​post-​Burning Man thing. I’d expected any place called The Sublounge to be a lavish technoplayground, plush with subdued, recessed lighting, bubbling blue drinks and flickering pop images everywhere. Instead it was a ratty, unstylishly undecorated hole that two weeks previous had probably been serving rockgut to longshoremen and Hell’s Angels.
It boasted two floors, but that’s only because they let people into the basement, where you expected to see rusty snow shovels propped up against the wall. The whole thing was a bit like, hey, kids, let’s put on a party! Which made it work, in a funny way, I guess its lack of, or utter failure of pretention.
More than a few people had that fresh-​off-​the-​playa look, with luminescent clothing and goggles and golden horns on their head. A man (I think) in a large, furry, cat/​bear/​amoeba suit was giving a massage to a braless girl in a transparent blouse. A guy dressed as Jesus, crown of thorns and everything, stopped dancing to come over and tell my friend Ananda that he’d just come out of the closet. Neither of us had ever seen him before.
My nod to the theme of the evening was a big Santa cap. I figured, Christmas at Hallowe’en, that’s like, whoo, semiotic dissonance, I’m an artist.
Not surprised it’s closed. It was the kind of place that, even had it been open a decade, would always have had a temporary, provisional, life-is-fleeting-so-let’s-wear-a-transparent-blouse feel to it.
RIP Sublounge. Posthumously, three stars. One for effort, five for capturing the fleeting, evanescent value of relative existence.

I clearly missed out when I was here, so I’m docking a star for my own stupidity. Completely unfair, but whoever said life was fair?
We sat in the cool barstools and had a couple of drinks while watching the interesting mix of SFers. The bad boy bikers outside, the old locals and the urban hipsters met with geeks and whatever the hell we’d be described as for a perfect little slice of the different types that make up SF. Our bartender had recently been branded it seemed, which led to much interest and cringing on our parts.
I wouldn’t go out of my way for a drink here, but I didn’t know anything about other floors. To be fair, even if I DID know about the other floors, I still may not go out of my way for a drink here. Because that’s what it is — totally out of my way. But next time I’m wandering around 3^rd street with nothing to do and no cabs in sight, I’ll definitely be back!

Visited this place once while it was still sublounge, and while I had a good time (I was lit before we got there) I think my friends and I brought the average age up considerably. The night we went there there was lots of crunking going on… nothing will make you feel more ancient than watching barely legal kids all contorting feverishly as if they were slinkys.
Two small dance floors up/​down, with decent bartenders and crazy/​cool airline seats that aren’t really conducive to conversation, however I did see couples doubled up in the chairs making out.
If I remember correctly the bartender does a very generous pour.
bathroom situation: poor — i think it’s one toilet for all the ladies and it gets messy… ew

This place is like my neighborhood Cheers! As a DJ, I enjoy spinning there when I’ve got some folks hanging out to enjoy the ambiance. The bartenders know their stuff and serve excellent mixed drinks. The two playstations upstairs will help you through a slow period in the evening; the airplane seats (off the set of Nash Bridges!) are quite comfortable, especially now that they’re in leather. Though it’s kinda out there in terms of city geography, it’s easily accessible on the 22, the 48 and the 15 (the former two of which terminate their routes either in front of or across 3^rd street from the bar). Also, cab companies never mind driving out there, and there is *always* parking within a block (if not right out front). This place is especially great for burner parties. If you see your favorite DJ scheduled to play here, come see them. If you just want to meet your friends in an out-​of-​the-​way joint, this could be the place.

yup, they party it up right here. good djs, plus grand theft auto on the ps2 for entertainment. too bad it’s way the hell off in the middle of nowhere.

Brilliant joint! After a short and steep cab ride through Potrero Hill with my fabulous party slicker French buddies — I ended at an empty warehouse district in China Basin. At the inception, it looks scary but then greets you a cool bouncer in this chilled, house like party haven. The best part is the basement with theatre chairs. The ambience is whacky and total funk … party goers are super casual. If you like good techno, you’ll perhaps move in. Top local Deejays spin here on Saturday nite … if you’re up for a post Burning Man desirous adventure — this is the place for you.