A belligerent green M&M cries into her phone while spilling vodka on the sidewalk, as the Pope and Jesus make out nearby. 

At 8:35 a.m., Colin Bennie won the men’s race, finishing in 35 minutes and 49 seconds. He may go on to run the New York Marathon in the fall, or even compete in the 2024 Olympics in Paris.

At 10.15 a.m., a naked man in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles body paint nearly fell off the roof of a Queen Anne Victorian while screaming along to “Baby Shark.” Who knows what his future holds. 

I’m posted up at what may be the epicenter of the madness, outside New Star-Ell Liquor store on Divisadero, around halfway along the race. It’s the last liquor store on the route for those who need to restock on refreshments before running, or staggering, into the fog of the Panhandle and Golden Gate Park beyond. 

Inside, owner Sameer Nasser is well prepared. 

“It’s all about crowd control. That’s the key,” Nasser tells me. “We serve customers as fast as possible. If people see a line, they get scared.”

Nasser and his partners have been running the store for 36 years, and have been open through every Bay to Breakers during that time. I ask him what the most popular item is. “Beer,” Nasser says. “Some liquor but mostly beer.” He says he stocks double to normal amount for the event. 

The store has three cash registers open, and someone watching the door. He tells me his daughter is also coming in soon to help with the rush.

“It’s our busiest day of the year by far,” Nasser adds as a gaggle of nuns pour in through the door. “It’s a smooth operation.”

Outside, a DJ blasts house music as the last actual runners disappear and a makeshift rave breaks out on the street. 

A very drunk, and very happy, Ron Burgundy wobbles on his feet and “interviews” passersby between glugging a 3-liter bag of rose wine he just picked up at the store, now freed from its box.  

Douglass Zimmerman/SFGATE

“It’s like if St. Patrick’s Day, Pride and Halloween had a kid!” Burgundy, aka lifelong San Francisco resident Dylan Ennis, shouts at me over the thudding bass of “I’m Good (Blue).” 

I ask Ennis how he thinks San Francisco is doing these days. “The city has always been the city. I grew up here. There’s always been problems, there’s always been highlights,” Ennis says. “It’s San Francisco. I f—g love it.”

Above us, two dildos tied together hang from the telephone line. On the trash can outside the store, Wonder Woman carefully decants gin into an empty PBR tall boy as bubbles fill the sky.  

Maybe to quell the now 100-people strong dance party that’s log-jamming the route, or maybe due to taking a wrong turn, a police cruiser slowly makes its way through the frenzy to some mild protests. The crowd soon thickens again. Marios seem to outnumber Minions this year. A lobster yells into her phone, “Where are you? … But is it a FUN party?” Friends reunite without words, just dancing, as “Super Freak” plays. 

Around the corner on Hayes, another DJ dressed in a king’s robes and crown provides some color commentary through a loudspeaker at the runners. “Lakers are very mediocre!” he yells at a LeBron James lookalike. He squeals at a passing pig, and then starts singing the Mario music to a sexy Bowser. 

Nearby, I talk to resident Michael Gallardo on the steps of his home that lines the route. He tells me he’s hosted a party there for the last 15 years but couldn’t this year due to scaffolding on the house. 

“Only in San Francisco,” Gallardo says as we watch some nude runners dressed only in football helmets pass by. “The nudies that walk by show the world their shortcomings, if you know what I mean,” he laughs. I ask Gallardo if he ever has any problems with the event. “Of course not. It’s delightful. It’s San Francisco.”