This entry was written at the end of the day, after a few beers and a number of card games.
Awake. It is 9:00am. You’re in a futon which normally is the “bed” for two very cute puppies. The bedroom door opens and the two dogs are sitting there, tails wagging, and they jump into bed and beg to play. It’s too early. It’s going to be a long day.
Out the door by…was it ten or eleven o’clock? I don’t remember. Showered, packed, and departed. Back on the 101-N heading towards San Francisco. We make our first stop of the day at Garlic World, 3 miles outside Gilroy, California (the garlic capital of the world! Nicci’s hometown!). At first I was concerned that this place — which I’ve visited before, in the early ’90s — wasn’t going to provide me a fruitful souvenir haul, but after a few minutes of searching I found about $100 worth of goodies to bring back for friends and co-workers. I even had them ship a care package to New Jersey for my mom! Aren’t I the best son in the world? You’d never believe her when she tells all her yenta Jewish friends about my ageist rants and my resenting her for being a self-absorbed ‘boomer.
While shopping at Garlic World, a group of three Korean filmmakers approached us and asked if they could interview us for whatever they were filming. They asked why people our age liked garlic so much, and Nicci said something smart, then I responded by saying I only liked garlic because I have a bad sense of taste and I’m often forced into eating foods. I made a few more smartass remarks, but Nicci handled herself very well. If anyone can find that interview video online, I will reward you very handsomely. I will post these contest details again in the future, but you’d better start Google-searching for Gilroy Garlic Festival Korea terms soon, because who knows when that shit will turn up online and embarrass the shit out of me.
From the outskirts of Gilroy we headed for San Francisco. Approaching the city I always feel a bit weird when I see signs for Interstate 80-East, because if I took that road for a little over 2,000 miles I’d pass through my hometown. It’s a weird, subtle reminder of “home.” I dragged Nicci to Aquarius for a while, where I shopped for some records. I finally picked up a copy of the Wilhelm Kleinbach album, which I’ll share shortly after returning to LA. I picked up the self-titled Davenport record, the Bong/Quttinirpaaq split LP, a Growing record, the Dark Fog record, a Fabio Orsi record (for $4!), and one other I can’t remember. I put back an Expo ’70 record and a Mississippi Records album…both of which I’ll probably just order through the mail when I get my next paycheck. Nicci was a good sport, she photographed me and asked a question or two about things I was looking at. She never once looked like she wanted to blow her brains out, which is as much as I can ask a girl who is inside a record store with me.
Next we split a super burrito at Taqueria Cancun. It was as delicious as I remember them being the last time I was in town. I think she was impressed with the burrito, but I could be entirely wrong. She might have hated it. She might now hate me for shoving a filthy, greasy mission burrito down her throat. The side of chips and salsas were equally yummy. I think two years ago I was still eating simple rice/chicken/cheese burritos, but now that I am older and wiser I didn’t mind the addition of beans and avocado. I still made the taqueria include sour cream on the side for Nicci. I’ll never change my mind about the horribleness of sour cream. That shit is gross.
A quick drive to the waterfront/fisherman’s wharf area was followed by more than an hour of exploration. We dropped $5 at the Musee Mecanique, which is a museum devoted to old penny arcade games. We watched early kinetoscope (that’s what they’re called, right?) photos of women in lingerie, tried our hands at a love tester (Nicci scored “Hot Stuff” while I scored “Mild”), and had our fortunes read by at least three different characters (the gypsy, grandma, “The Magic Ray,” “The Mouth Of Truth,” and more). My two fortunes said: “You have been faced with some tragedy in the past. Things will look brighter in the future. There will be a rift between you and a dear friend, but that will be patched up and your friendship will be stronger than ever.” Yeah, right. The palmistry chart said, “Your hand indicates that two years from now you will have a good opportunity to get wealthy through an acquaintance you will make. You are born under a lucky star, will live long and enjoy good health until the end of your life. To be truly happy do not forget those less fortunate than yourself. You will be lucky on Saturdays. When you dream of Father or Mother, try to carry out their wishes.” I would try, if the bastards weren’t always dying in my dreams. My “best days — the 3rd, 12th and 22nd of each month.”
Nicci’s fortune said, “You are diplomatic…ambitious and sensitive, magnetic personality but not easily moved. Can be stubborn. Can carry a definite program through with driving engineering skill. Refined in appearance.” In other words, wrong. What does that bullshit about engineering skill mean, anyway? We both paid our last quarters to receive a joint fortune. That one said, “Don’t be so irritable, forget your feelings. You will find life holds most things you desire. You have powers of attraction.” I guess what that means is that we should stop fighting and we’ll appear more attractive to each other.
At Pier 39, we walked around for a while taking photos of the throngs filling the tourist hotspot. We watched sea lions battle for territory on floating docks. Then Steve called and asked where the hell we were, so we gathered our belongings and headed for beautiful, friendly Oakland!
I haven’t seen Steve’s apartment since I moved him in two Augusts ago. It looked the same but different. Instead of all the furniture he owned being scattered just inside the doorway, it is now set up like a normal living environment! Nicci and I chatted with him and his girlfriend Anjuli for some time, making uncouth jokes that often forced the ladies to roll their eyes, then the four of us stepped out for dinner. We went to a place a few blocks from his apartment. The waitress was a cunt who laughed at me when I ordered a fucking Dogfish Head beer. “Whatever floats your boat” and “Different strokes for different folks,” she said, condescendingly. When I told the owner of the tavern what she said, we got into a discussion about how good their beers are, and how that bitch just didn’t understand. After he left to manage his pub, an idea was hatched where the four of decided to develop a travel/food television show. I would be in charge of rating beers, Nicci would rate food, Anjuli would rate wait-staff, and Steve would rate ambiance as well as the GLBTQIQ population at an eatery. Steve is more than a good fit for sizing up a local GLBTQIQ population, trust me. I don’t remember what the total score for this tavern was, but it was probably near a three on the scale of one-to-five.
Back at Steve’s apartment, we cracked a bottle of wine and a nice dark ale before starting an intense game of Apples to Apples. Steve won. I thought about writing a letter of intent to sue the makers of the board game for defamation of character and intentional infliction of emotional distress, but decided against it after seeing everybody involved in the game had at least one or two shitty green cards (which in our variation of the game describes the cardholder’s personality). When Anjuli left to work on a lawyerly project, Steve taught Nicci and I how to play Guillotine, a kid’s card game that was simple enough even for three adults consuming alcoholic beverages to grasp. Once the game ended we held a brief contest to see who was the beast at speaking English in a foreign dialect. I’m pretty sure I was the worst of the three of us.
Tomorrow will be more sightseeing, and then we’ll finally end up back in Gilroy for the garlic festival this weekend.
Wicked Witch – Fancy Dancer
Afflicted Man – For The Few I Please
Tomokawa Kazuki – What Is This Place?
