Having money was hard work and it pissed Gilda off.
The scone business had exploded through no fault of her own, and now she had a multinational pastry cooperation. Since that idiot Sparkle had bridged the gap between universes, that had only increased business.
Going through the portal to the human world pissed her off. So did customs. So did humans in general, particularly Americans with their smiles and wishing guests to have a nice day.
It was even worse in San Francisco. They seemed to be making a try to outdo Equestria with everything being technicolor. But this was where she had a board meeting in the morning, and as much as it pissed her off, she was going.
After the short flight from the portal building, Gilda checked the address on her cell phone and landed in front of the hotel, her talons clicking on the sidewalk. She immediately disliked the look of the place, but polished and pretentious wasn't any worse than colorful and chic.
The concierge seemed to get that she wasn't in the mood to talk and handed over the room key without comment. Gilda went upstairs to drop her luggage.
She pulled back the curtains and looked out over the city from the twentieth floor. The setting sun framed the distant bay and bridge. It would be nice to go for a relaxing flight.
She tried to open the window but it only slid a few inches before being stopped by a block screwed into the track.
Growling in frustration, she spun around and flopped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling while her tail flicked. She was hungry from the traveling.
Rolling over, Gilda grabbed her phone. For human Earth, sushi seemed like it was ready made griffon food. There was nothing like that nearby, however. She looked for other restaurants. Vegetarian. Vegan. Hay. The place was ponifying at a disgusting rate.
Gilda's talons tightened, but she forced herself to calm down. It wouldn't be the first phone she had crushed. She settled instead for a quiet simmer. Well, what did they have that she cared about?
Alcohol. That was at least something easily available. And if she got drunk enough, she'd either forget she was hungry or be too out of it to care what she ate.
The phone revealed a bar just down the block called Slice of Life. Whatever.
In a few minutes, Gilda was there. There were no windows on the outside of the building. A steady thumping could be heard from inside. A large human with short hair stood outside with their arms crossed.
"ID," she said. Her voice was gravely, but recognizably female. So was Gilda's, and some ponies had occasionally misgendered her, at their peril. So she understood how that could happen, not that it mattered whether the bouncer was male or female.
Gilda impatiently showed her passport and was let into the bar.
Inside, the music got several orders of magnitude louder. The interior of the building was dark, though there was still recognizable color and decoration. Gilda purposely averted her eyes and sat down at the bar, propping her paws on the rail and resting her talons on the counter.
The bartender was slimmer than the bouncer, and with slightly longer hair. "What'll it be?"
"Griffonstone Gutburner."
"Sorry, we don't have that."
Humans. "Triple vodka."
"Sorry, we only have double glasses. It's against policy to serve more than that at once."
"Okay," Gilda said, but only through great force of will.
The bartender left her alone, going to pour the drink. Gilda sat on the stool, slowly sweeping the tip of her tail. A couple of people were already in the bar, but a few more had come in after Gilda. She could feel some of them staring, using the mirror behind the bar to keep track of any who might approach her. As one woman soon did.
She was with a small group, and they pushed her forward, giggling. The woman wore glasses and one of those sweaters, turtle-somethings. Gilda watched her approach in the mirror. The woman opened her mouth.
"No," said Gilda, not turning around.
Face flushing red, the woman beat a hasty retreat. Gilda wondered what she had wanted, but only until her drink appeared. The bartender came back and put the glass down in front of her. Gilda slugged it. "Another."
The bartender lifted her eyebrows, but said nothing as she picked up the glass.
Gilda had time to take in her surroundings, which meant the bartender was taking far too long. The music continued, a heavy, repetitive beat without much variation. More people had started to arrive, all of them apparently women, and were beginning to head to the dance floor. There was some grinding.
While Gilda was distracted, a woman managed to slip up beside her. The newcomer had buzzed-short hair on top her head, but lacking that indicator, the swell of her chest in her white tank top helped Gilda figure out what she was. Why couldn't the damned humans be consistent? She even had tattoos everywhere like she was trying to be some sort of pony.
"Hey." She grinned, running her eyes up and down Gilda's body from the crest of feathers atop her head to the tuft of fur on the end of her tail. "I was just wondering...do you taste like cock or pussy?"
"Would you taste differently if I disemboweled you where you stand or if I took the time to carefully butcher and grill you?" Gilda replied. She tapped her talons on the bar for emphasis.
The woman blinked and paused. "I honestly can't tell if that was an entendre."
"If you want an entendre, they sell them in French bakeries."
Just then, Gilda's drink arrived, and she turned away. She grabbed the next glass, gulped it, and set it back down. She looked at the bartender and pointed at her glass.
The bartender gave Gilda a dubious look. "All right, but this is the last one."
Out of the corner of her eye, Gilda saw the woman still standing beside her and turned her head back.
She wore a confused look. "I'm still trying to figure this out. Is what you said some sort of metaphor for the red tide, or being flaming or something?"
"No. And you're starting to piss me off."
"Better than being pissed on. Which I can do, if thats-"
"Leave!"
"Okay, okay, you just had to say so." The woman raised her hands and turned away. "You aren't going home with anyone tonight with that attitude."
Gilda watched her go, wondering what she meant by that. She looked at the dance floor again. There was more grinding now.
At the edges of the room, other women sat at tables and booths. There were still no men to be found. Despite that, the rest seemed to be very close, talking, touching. Some of them doing some publicly unacceptable touching.
There was something really strange about this bar, Gilda noticed. She looked around, seeing just how many females there were, how intimate they all seemed.
Gilda realized it was just like Equestria, and that pissed her off.
