SHARK-INFESTED FUN

Sidle up on your rideshare rickshaw and behold! Your VR goggles need no adjusting; you’ve reached the very ends of the earth. If you need the wifi password, don’t bother asking the Darwin Award-winning members of this semi-defunct YFS Prospect Chapter. Cosmopolitan expounds, “Jutting out like a neck goiter into the bay, The Drink boasts the first oceanic outfield perimeter in the YFS. One step too far and shrinkage will be the least of your concerns. As you helplessly descend into the gaping maw of the wild salt waters to contemplate 50 ways to please your man.” Despite the clever name, the only balls getting wet around here are in the Castro. These YFS step kids have had more dog park dates than splash hits. Legend has it, the only would-be homer in the Drink’s ignominious history was robbed by the Mothership’s Long Balls Lenny via mouth catch, not unlike a portly AirBud leaping off a cruise ship to the churning froth below. He was fine. The budding Chapter has never recovered. C’mon people, put on those assless chaps and get back out there!