The light creeping through the curtains of the hotel room was golden, and the downtown street several stories below was raucous with man and machine. I woke up in the late morning, just in time for room service. I had a shower, and sprawled across the bed, trading jibes with coworkers, trading stories of going cross-country. It was a beautifully slow afternoon, but around two o'clock, I was bored, hungry, and twitchy.
I left my hotel room, retrieved my truck, and headed down into Burlingame via 101. Burlingame, to all appearances, is this strip of land between freeway and ocean. The residents are few: the hotels and restaurants are many. Down that way is a motel I've stayed several times before, the Vagabond Inn, and next to it is a decent chain burger place with a pretty damn good view of the bay and one of the landing paths info SFO.
Idyllic. It was a peaceful afternoon in my booth at the burger joint, which is rather more upscale than I describe it. Jungle plants, gold fittings, a pretty good bar - huge, plush booths with a great view of the water.
I curled up into my booth for the two hours it took me to finish reading Palimpsest. While reading, I thought about the archetypes and images of cities, and about what San Francisco means to me - both as a vacation spot, as a goal, as the place one of the great loves in my life was partially set.
San Francisco will always be full of magic for me, and love.
As I was to learn later, it's not somewhere I could ever live. Living there breaks the spell - there's nothing to quest for. San Francisco - or the dream of it - is best approached by never quite arriving and settling down.
I got my burger, I got my hefeweizen. Feeling fat and happy, I spent the next two hours reading in a seaside booth, alternately finishing several chapters or watching planes land. Finally, I left, hitting a gas station on my way out of Burlingame.
It felt early. I headed south, pursuing the idea of San Jose. It was a beautiful day to take side streets, dodging the traffic until about halfway down to the city. Late afternoon sun set in, green-golden and balmy. I found parking in downtown, and commenced wandering, searching in vain for an independent coffee shop.
Finally, at Starbucks, an idea struck me.
<cassparadox> So anyway, Zeph, which part of the city are you in? We should do dinner, or snacks, or coffee, or tea. Or something. Generalities are fine, toss out something near you and I'll look about.
<cassparadox> I'm trying to buy her food and/or some form of drinkable. I'm terrible.
After some convincing, I followed the instructions of my GPS on down to the Starbucks across town... which was closed. A bit puzzled, I peered around the parking lot, spotting a lone car with what looked like Zeph's mother and a rather frazzled college-age student.
Some discussion ensued. A short time later, Zephronias and I were ensconced in a booth at Denny's eating breakfast chow of dubious virtue.
Zeph was understandably wary of me. Perhaps still is. I understand random visitors from the Internet is a bit unnerving.
She is a very quiet, very calm, badass.
Conversation mostly centered around E2. But in a good way. We discussed various life minutiae, story-telling, and other such things, and a while later, I dropped her back off on a dark residential street.
Yawning a bit, and regretting a lack of caffeine in my blood stream, I packed up and headed back up 101 to San Francisco. There was another day ahead...