So here's how it went down:
I'm on a Delta Song flight from JFK to SFO. The plane is mostly packed. I'm towards the rear. Although it's around dinner time, the lights are dimmed, and most of the passengers are asleep.
My nipples were hard. The early San Francisco air was icy. We had a few more hours before the sun would tickle the air and vibrate its electrons. Thus, my nipples were hard.
Bristling with tourists, shoppers, and teens, Market Street on a sunny Sunny afternoon could have almost been 42nd Street in Manhattan, sans the smell of hot dogs.
It's days like this that remind me of how much I love big cities.
There are a lot of fucking idiots on the streets, pardon my French. So it's a matter of necessity that you employ defensive driving techniques, lest you end up being a maroon smear on the pavement. I say this because I've had to share the road with such idiots in the rain in both San Francisco and NYC these last couple of weeks.
Over the years, I've found myself unconsciously acting on certain defensive patterns while driving. So I decided to write them down here. Maybe one day, these will become lessons I pass onto my kids.
Or maybe one day, I'll write a book, get filthy rich, then hire a chauffeur so I never have to deal with those fucking idiots on the streets anymore.
Before coming to the West Coast, I've never experienced an earthquake. Which is no big surprise, since the East Coast is nowhere near a fault line.
So it was a huge shock to me when the lights suddenly started blinking on and off.
I had a good excuse for running the red light: it was late at night, I didn't see any cars around, and I was driving too fast to slow down in time.
The cop who blazed his lights didn't seem to agree. He pulled me over and strutted towards me, with a hand on his gun.
Jayne was in the passenger seat. She peered in the rearview mirror and adjusted her bangs. I fished my wallet out and turned to her. "Don't worry, I've been pulled over before and usually get off with a warning."
"Speaking of fetishes, Kim has a fetish for butts," Matt stated plainly.
"What? I DO NOT!" Kim retorted, shooting him an evil glance.
"Tell them the story about the butt exhibit," Matt prodded. He leaned back in his chair and smirked.
So Mom, here's how it went down.
I met her at Golden Gate Park one weekend. I was just chilling near the Conservatory of Flowers, reading a book. She came over and sat down next to me. I looked up and smiled at her; she smiled back.
Rebuilding Together is a community service organization that brings volunteers together to help rebuild and beautify the homes of families that cannot do it themselves.
Its 30 degrees F right now and I'm so cold that my nipples are hard enough to cut through glass.
There was a time when I could tolerate this temperature. Unfortunately, I'm a wimp now.
Weekly random rambles, musings & writings of Mike Lee in San Francisco, CA