So, SFist Tourist has a bit of a confession: we went on the Chinatown Ghost Tour over a week ago and plumb forgot to write about it until we were watching Big Trouble in Little China last night. It could have been the misnomer in the name. Not that we thought a ghost would lead the tour, but you certainly don't go to a monster truck rally and not expect to see monster trucks. And really, what's a cockfight without cocks? A whole lotta disappointing, that's what.

We met up with our uncommunicative tour group and affable leader, Chuck, who frequently referred to his "senior moments," and proceeded to stand in Portsmouth Square for what possibly could have been 60 minutes of the 90 minute tour, not talking about ghosts. But possibly we could be exaggerating; we admit we were tired of standing still. Finally, Chuck pointed out a hotel where employees once saw a ghost trying to make a dinner reservation, and we figured our "ghostly good time" was about to start.

We did learn about some of the history and tradition in Chinatown, as we lumbered down intimidating, dark alleys and the clicking and clacking of thousands of mahjong tiles surrounded us. Locations of suicides and murders, like the Golden Dragon Massacre, were pointed out and we were told the ubiquitous ghost tale of a woman wandering around with a lantern.

Chuck recounted some anecdotes that had nothing to do with Chinatown, but involved ghosts, and some that had nothing to do with ghosts but involved Chinatown. It was clear that he knew some fascinating stories, and we really wanted to say, "Look, Chuck. How's about you stop showing us random windows and we'll take off our fanny pack, despite how handy it is, and we'll go to the nearest hole-in-the-wall bar, get tanked on Du Kang and you can tell us what's what. We know you know the real dirt."

SFist Jessica, contributing (both text and pictures).