How much lube do I need?

The day started out with a driving beat. A neighbour apparently likes loud music, with a heavy bass line. Despite that, we lounged around for the better part of the morning. Eventually, between the bass and the constant flipping of the channel surfing boys, I decided I had to get out. I called Ana, and we arranged to meet later, and I headed out to check out the Pride stuff at the Civic Centre.

I enter, and am immediately handed a bag with 5 packets of lube, and one condom. It strikes me as a relatively irresponsible ratio. Actually, the sheer volume of lube is more than a little intimidating, but I stuff it in my purse and hope that the security dudes at the airport tomorrow understand what's going on. Either that, or they'll consider me the world's most helpful cavity search candidate.

I continue on my way, taking a bus up Haight to Golden Gate Park. Along the way, I start to "get" San Francisco. I like it more and more. The park is beautiful. And BIG. I naively think that I can just hop off the bus and cross to the far side of the park on foot, to meet Ana at the windmills. Um. I get just inside the park, and realize how dumb I am. I sit down at an easy to find spot, and wait for Ana to drive by.

We drive along, and Ana points out the bison in the park - don't call them buffalo! - and we travel along the coast. Ana is a great guide. Her dad used to work for the parks service, so she knows some neat places to go. She shows me where the old Victorian Bath house used to be, you can still see the foundations carved into the rocks. The surf is choppy and rocks jut out of the water just beyond the breaker wall. It must have been such a civilized place for a bath, overlooking rough nature. I could see the appeal.

Then:



And now:



It's freezing, so we move on.

We drive through the Presidio, and make our way to the Golden Gate bridge. Just underneath it, there is a civil war era fort, Fort Point. We walk around it for a while and head up to the turrets. Very cold, very windy, but a remarkable view. We're directly under the bridge, you can see all the way across, where the opposite shore is slightly obscured by fog and mist. To the right is Alcatraz, to the left... ocean. Amazing and beautiful. We head to the gift shop where in keeping with our morbid touring history (Ana and I toured Anne Frank house together in Amsterdam, getting nice and sad in prep for our shows that night) Ana finds photos of dead civil war era kids in coffins in a book in the shop. We laugh up a storm, and are judged by a family. We try to explain, but there's really no point.

Fort Point, under the bridge:



It's freezing, so we move on.

We drive through more of the Presidio, and see the old officers homes. We decide to grab some dinner, and head to Chevys - a mexican place. Great food, great margarita, and apparently, it's my birthday. I get a song and a little sundae. Ana says usually they give you a big sombrero - but they're out. Dammit. My birthday is ruined.

All in all, a great day of sightseeing, with a very fun friend.