There was this restaraunt in San Francisco I loved as a kid. I would go there with my parents after a modeling shoot for Mervins, Macy's, Pottery Barn, the like. I was about 2-5 during this time.

Best clam chowder. Served up in a delicious fresh sourdough bread bowl, piping hot. Nice view of the bay. It was an outdoor spot, covered but open air, honestly just felt like it was in the middle of the street.

No idea what the name of this venue was. But we called it The Dirty Birdy because it was always swarming with seagulls and blackbirds that tourists and children couldn't resist feeding. Despite the general filth of the place, the food was always amazing and we never had any issues. Except once.

This time I happened to have something red earlier as a snack. Salsa? And then clam chowder. I remember proclaiming very calmly that I didn't feel right.

I stood up without fanfare. And barfed like Drew Barrymore when her character turned into a zombie on Santa Clarita Diet. Directly onto the table.

Haven't thought of that in years.