Chronic Negress

With ziggurats and mesas of snow piled at every corner, I tossed and turned every night last week wondering if I was going to get to California. I packed, repacked, fiddled online and rescheduled hair appointments blown off course by the snow. The hair will abide like the Dude. I made it to BWI Marshall airport with a driver who drove as though his van had a governor stuck at 50 mph. The Beltway and 95 were clear, so I was slightly frustrated at the lack of speed.

Turns out it didn’t matter. My flight was delayed by about an hour and a half due to mechanical issues. I got coffee, got rebooked and waited while a few passengers fumed and smoldered dangerously. These people like to suck the joy out of my day. I tried to give some of it back with mixed results. I ate corn flakes and a banana (Continental still feeds people) and slept my way to Houston. I also updated my dinner companions with each leg of the journey.

Thanks methinks to some of that shared joy, the Negress got booked on an earlier flight, saved dinner with Dara and Dan and slept well for the first time in a week.

The only downer of the trip was the loss of my bright fleece hat, heretofore famous for blowing into the waters off Antarctica. I suspect it’s at TSA in Baltimore, but no worries. I’m staying at the Palace, a grand hotel just off Market near Geary. I had a nice breakfast while listening to “Car Talk,” and then struck out for the Ferry Building. It’s about 60 degrees here and the wimpy Californians were bundled in hats, fleece, heck, everything except Snuggies. I was wearing a sweater and a cami and felt fine. Before you arrive at the Ferry Building, there’s a warren of market tents with goods awash in peace signs, crystals and strange photos of zebra butt closeups. I remembered my hat and meandered

Katz Knits rules

through the warren, rejecting much of the merchandise with a look. I need little, but I wanted a hat. Luckily I found Ann Katz’s booth and, after much contemplation, bought the hat you see here. Katz Knits is Ann’s website and it’s definitely worth checking out.

I went on to the Ferry Building, bought a skim latte at Peet’s, which is great coffee. By comparison, Starbucks is nasty, brutish and burnt. I browsed at Book Passages and then remembered my search for Petit Sirah. So I bought a half case at the Ferry wine store from a student of Karen McNeil’s, and started walking back up Market. In all my time living in northern California and visiting, I have never ridden a cable car. So I caught the one that starts at California off Market. It’s a good choice since it’s a less touristy route than the one on Powell, which passes through Union Square and goes to Fisherman’s Wharf, which is one of the worst places to go in San Francisco for anything. I sat next to Sugar Ray Robinson’s son on part of the trip, and got off at Van Ness at the end of the line. The weather was amazing so I decided to walk back down Van Ness to Geary down to Market. The walk was a nice flood of memories — Tommy’s, the joint that is a favorite of bands like Metallica, the Alcazar Theatre  where I saw a great Ray Davies solo show, Union Square and the groovy Needless Markups (aka Neiman Marcus) building. I got back to the hotel, took a dip in the pool and hot tub and am waiting for drinks and dinner with pals. If life could be better, I can’t see how.