Yesterday evening, we left the pollen-laden Valley, went over the Altamont Pass, and made our way through the Bay Area, which was itself rather heavily laden with smog. Once we got to San Francisco, however, the fog was already rolling in from the western side of the peninsula, bringing some fresher air with it. We walked around the Ferry Building and looked at all the wonderful organing produce. It all looked so good ... but by then even Jack In The Box tacos would have made my mouth water. Just before we went to dinner, I took this picture of Treasure Island. That's the Bay Bridge on the right. Behind the island, the rest of the Bridge meets with the city of Oakland, home of the nefarious Oakland Raiders Football Team.
At Sinbad's Restaurant, we met fellow Piker John Trindle, who was in SF for a conference, far from his home in Virginia. We hadn't seen John in -- is it two years or three? -- and he looked not a bit different. Bernie, John and I have at least one thing in common: we're all shy. Nevertheless, we manfully struggled to overcome our quiet natures, and I think we did okay. What I thought was interesting and comforting was that to me, it didn't feel like much time had passed at all. It was easy to settle into the cameraderie we felt when the first Filthy Piker Writers' Conference convened -- there, I looked it up in my Archive -- in 2004.
The food was good, too ... but not as good as seeing a friend again.
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