Thursday, March 27, 2008

do your parents have accents...

Perhaps you're aware that yesterday afternoon, the Golden Gate Bridge was shut down due to a horrible accident. I work in Mill Valley but live and party with the regular people in the city. A closed bridge means I'm trapped in suburban hell. But by the time I was due to meet Mel and X, it was back open. None the less, I'd kinda set my heart on taking the ferry, my brilliant vehicle alternative. So class act that I am, I threw a spare pair of underwear in my bag (and my mother wonders why I'm single) and took that ferry anyway.
Taking the ferry across the San Francisco Bay was, in my childhood, the highlight of my holiday season. My mother would drop my taffeta-covered ass off at the Larkspur Ferry Terminal to meet my Dad in San Francisco for the annual Father/Daughter Dance at Lakeside. This 30 minutes ALONE, DRESSED UP, DRINKING SPRITE made me feel highly glamorous. And of course, I'd spend the entire ride outside, ruining my hair and swooning over the Port Of San Francisco sign glowing before me. It was pure, 11 year old heaven.
So last night, there I was, not drinking Sprite, flying across the Bay trying to put on mascara. I was hoping for a bigger freakshow among my fellow eco-friendly travellers, but the boat was pretty empty. There is, however, a full bar.
Sadly, no table service.
The temptation to venture outside was killing me. I love boats! I also love my hair. I considered the trade-offs, and since I was being a liver of life and riding the ferry just for the hell of it, I figured "Fuck it!", threw a pashmina on top of my head and wandered on the decks, a la Rose in Titanic.
I must admit, the $7.10 ferry ride is the best deal in the Bay Area. My god, all three bridges, Angel Island, Alcatraz and the city booming before me! I can't believe this is where I live.
Perfectly, and the stalker in the comments was right, Americano was right across the street from the ferry building in San Francisco, and Mel, X and I met up for drinks.
I ran into Tessa, who turns out, is the bar manager. And that means one thing. Free charcuterie!
We talked X into letting us take him to Epic Roasthouse for dinner, which lasted so long that even Tourk showed up. Epic, you guys, rocks. ROCKS! We were literally patting ourselves on our backs, toasting our friendship, eating $40 steak, all directly beneath the glowing Bay Bridge. I secretly pretended I was in a movie.
I don't have to tell you Mel and I ended at Le Club.
And this morning, I took the ferry back to Marin. With my coffee from Frog Hollow, my Chronicle, my notebook? 30 year old heaven.
I am now taking the ferry at least once a week. You guys have got to do it too. I'll even do it with you. I'm THAT committed to my new favorite bar.

PS: My Culture Blog is done. It'll be up eventually, I imagine. And check out my lesbian wife talking about killing people...

2 comments:

Sweet Melissa said...

After the breakup party, we should have a mock lesbian weddding. We can register for booze and shoes.

IUJU

aapineda said...

Didn't you mean to say 25 year old heaven?