First of all, Gregorio, I hope you had a wonderful birthday and enjoyed Chico. I'm sorry I didn't get to say it on Friday but Happy Birthday!
Joshie-poo:
After spending last Thursday with you, a day which began with fabulous omelets, if I do say so myself, (Chloe's got nothin' on us! And I scoff at the 8 dollars they charge and their 40 minute wait) I feel I made up for missing Josh Day '07. Let's remind everyone what Thursday (aka: Museum Day) consisted of...
Around 2pm, two sober, thrifty city enthusiasts (that's us) arrived at the SF MOMA. Lucky for me, Josh- the mafioso he is- had his connections get us in for free. Our heads filled with Matisse and indigo blue cotton shirts (special exhibits), we decided it was high time to fill our stomachs with something, too. Ah! Toronado-our beloved beer bar- has a happy hour that starts before noon. We proceeded to hop on a Haight-bound bus, which arrived promptly- an omen that the universe was in favor of our pilgrimage-and shortly thereafter arrived on heaven's doorstep.
We split a pulled pork sandwich from my favorite BBQ place across the street from the bar (it reminds me a bit of my hick-ish roots in Florida and West Virginia) and washed it down with 3 tasty pints. Happy hour (the best hour of the day, which apparently lasts for 6 hours at Toronado, though we were only there for two) being over, we decided we needed to top the day off with some of the homemade brew. We professed our love for all things alcoholic and considered the always alluring possibility of Bingo. It was around this point that I noticed I had a text message. I was actually in the middle of sending a reply when I just plain passed out; despite my best efforts, I never managed to hit the elusive "Send" button, or get to Bingo for that matter. According to my sources, in the end, no one made it to bingo; the lure of burritos and birthday cake claimed every last soul.
However, I should note that my passing out was especially noteworthy because 1.) The lights in my room were on 2.) I was fully dressed 3.) My bedroom door wasn't exactly closed 4.) It was still light outside-roughly 7:55pm.
"Museum Day"...Special... That's real bonding right there.
STILL TO COME: The Tragicomedy of Travel- Peruvian Style
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2 comments:
Wow, what can I add that you didn't already cover?
It was quite a day. Me, Darren, and Cristin tried to replicate that same success a few days later, with differing results.
Toronado was mega packed because of a 20th anniversary party. We got there around 5, and had serious doubts that even with our best efforts, we would get a beer before happy hour ended.
We went to a bar next door, that counting the three of us and the bartender, had a total of four (4) people in it. Impressive. We had a beer there, then decided to go get sandwiches, more beer, and drink them in the park.
We went to Love and Haight, which was packed with at least 2 to 3 other customers. After ordering our sandwiches, we took a seat, and waited. A lot. And then waited some more.
Here are possible explanations for why it would take ten (10) minutes, literally, to make a sandwich:
All produce (onions, tomatoes, lettuce) were actually cultivated on site, and they had to wait until they were in season again to pick them.
Mustard was perhaps stone-ground, by hand, to order for each individual sandwich.
All bread was made, to order, in a bread making machine, from scratch.
Or, maybe, the sandwich maker was a stoned, burnt-out, Mexican cholo who didn't give a fuck about shit. Maybe.
When we left, I had to check a newspaper, just to see if the war in iraq was over or if we had a new president or something, because it felt like we had been in there for years.
After this, we went to the park, drank some beer, ate our sandwiches, which tasted strikingly similar to hundreds of sandwiches I have consumed in my life that were prepared in 3 minutes or less, and had a nice little evening.
Oh, on a side note, why don't we get sunsets here? We had a nice little view of the city, and were there till close to sundown. In a typical area, this would result in a tight-ass sundown. Bummer.
Then we came back, and called up Devon. Always a good plan.
That is where this story ends, despite it continuing for another 6 or 7 hours.
Notes and addendum: 1) a: Devon = large county in south west england. b: winner of multiple adult film awards, former Vivid Entertainment Star, currently employed by Shane's World. c: what my name would have been if I'd been a girl.
Devin = My friend from college.
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