As a kid, Oz meant yellow brick roads, ruby slippers, and flying monkeys so scary they made you want to throw up.
As an adult, Oz means a breezy streetside smoker's commissary-cum-lounge run by a couple of affable Russians. While you shop, they'll hook up the hookah with one of 10 flavors including white peach and French vanilla.
Beverage-wise, there is tea and coffee, either regular or strong and sweet, prepared Turkish style on a small heated bed of sand, which sounds romantic but always leads to chaffing.
They serve up free grub all day one day a month from a definitive selection of "Mediterranean or Middle Eastern or, you know, whatever we feel like." Thankfully, there are no flying monkeys to be found.
Oz is open when Dimitri and Yasha wake up 'til very late, at 3224 1/2 22nd Street at Mission.
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