Jason, the charming author of Night is Half Gone blew into town this weekend and I bludgeoned him into having lunch with me and allowing me to show him the sights. He is totally cute, and sweet, and affable, and, again, charming as all get out. I say that based on the fact he was willing to laugh at my jokes and to put up with my tour guiding, which largely consists of aimlessly wandering around, announcing stuff like "A really cool restaurant used to be there until they tore it down and built that Walgreen's."
He was very impressed with the handmade Pop Tarts at Foreign Cinema.
He was also thrilled with the hills here, a good thing since there are so many of them. Coming from the swamps myself, I understand what a thrill geography that goes up and then comes back down is, so I pointed the car at the biggest damn up-and-downs there are around here and took off. Whee.
We took in the tail end of the Castro Street Fair, an enormous celebration for the neighborhood as well as homosexuality. We were walking up the street past the Castro Theatre and a blind guy, complete with white cane, hit on me. There we were, surrounded by the gay world of San Francisco and the only action I can score is some guy who can't see me. Life is so cruel.
I had a wonderful time just noodling around with the old darling. I understand he and his friends are off in the wilds of wine country, I hope they enjoy themselves.