I’ve checked out of Inn 1890 Bed & Breakfast, and I’m packing to come home. I’ll stay with Matt and Heather tonight, then load the car, and we’ll leave tomorrow mid-afternoon. Matt has a meeting in Japantown (a section of San Francisco) and we’ll pick him up there. We’ll drive as far as Reno (I’ve never been there) to spend the night. Matt and Heather will gamble and I’ll walk around and people watch…my favorite pastime in casinos. Matt and Heather will accompany me as far as Denver, where we’ll take a tour of the New Belgium Brewing Company (actually in Fort Collins…they make Fat Tire Amber Ale). They’ll stay until Sunday and fly back to SF, and I’ll head out Saturday morning for the last leg of a long, long drive.

I’ve played poker out here with Matt and his friends four or five times. Each time I’ve lost…never more than a few dollars, but always on the minus side. This past Saturday night I won. Not much, maybe $10.00, but on the plus side for once. We had a long day after an afternoon in Hayward at a Barrel Aged Beer Festival (some awesome beers); a couple beers and a light snack at The Trappist, an excellent beer bar in Oakland; and a night of poker at Eric and Heather Gahan’s. Their kids were just going to bed when we got there, so we spoiled that. They were wound up for quite a while, so Heather and Eric took turns playing and coaxing the kids to sleep. We got back around 2:30 AM. My body clock is somewhere between East Coast and West Coast time, so my sleeping has been erratic.

We got massages again Sunday. Yes, they allowed me back, but a different girl, the one at the front desk, took me on. I found out that you were supposed to lie down on both towels, and cover yourself with the towel and blanket at the foot of the table. Last week I wondered why you would have to weasel your feet under that pile of stuff. So no rub noises from “body on synthetic leather”. Lucky for her I had left my underpants on ‘cuz the towel slipped off when I turned over. Also lucky for her, I didn’t wear any old underpants with holes…’nuff said!

We went to Tommy’s Mexican Restaurant afterwards, had margaritas and I had an enchilada. I was going to order two, but one was just right and, for once, I wasn’t bloated with too much food. Yesterday, Heather and I went down to Fisherman’s Wharf, went to a couple of shops, and then stopped by the Buena Vista for Irish Coffee. After that we met Matt and Anna for Japanese food in Japantown. Today, for lunch, we went to a Korean Restaurant in Daly City. Just when I’m getting used to using chopsticks, I’m headed back to Hastings where chopsticks are used as kindling to get the wood stove going.

I have some sad news to report. I’ve lost my favorite hat. It was the one I bought when Diane, Harry and I did the Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon in 2002. It was just a San Francisco tourist hat, but I liked it and it fit me well. I guess I should be honest and tell you that I didn’t really lose it. It’s in a waste basket at Inn 1890. Why would I throw away my favorite hat, you may be asking? I’m embarassed to tell you. It fell in the toilet. You also may be saying, that water isn’t all that bad. It can be washed. Without going into the sordid details, the toilet had been used. You’re probably wondering why I would be wearing my hat when I was going to the bathroom. Well, keep on wondering ‘cuz I’m not telling. Just use your imagination.

A couple of quick side notes. From the e-mails, you can gather that we’ve been to quite a few breweries and beer gatherings. I may need a stay at the nearest Betty Ford Clinic after I get back, but let’s wait until after the third annual beer, wine and mead tasting at our place on December 5th. Secondly, Heather showed me pictures of Matt wearing her clothes. Just when you thought you really know your kids…

I never get used to seeing the weird people in big cities (nice segue from the last paragraph). This is the one I’ve been in the most, but San Francisco seems to have more than it’s share of strangeness. Most of the people are street people, can be mildly mentally ill, and you can learn to ignore them. They beg, but usually aren’t “in your face” obnoxious. There was a guy on the BART train Saturday that was “creepy weird”. He looked like one of those guys that could have easily been a serial killer, or one of those guys that could have been from a planet different from our own. Those are the scary ones to me. There was a guy on the bus on Sunday after we left Tommy’s, that could have ben the subject of the “Rainman” movie (Dustin Hoffman). He was dressed nicely, looked perfectly normal, and sat there quoting an advertisement for American Airlines, then quoted an advertisement for the New York City Tourist Bureau. Then he would cross himself about ten times (he must have been Orthodox ‘cuz after forehead, chest, he went to right shoulder, then left), and started all over again.

I can’t help feeling sorry for them all…the ones who are mentally ill and don’t know any better; the ones who have mental “issues” but aren’t bad enough to be institutionalized; the ones who know better but have abused alcohol and/or drugs way too long to have the capacity to change; and the very few who are really down and out due to a crappy economy. Matt and I have duscussed this issue back and forth each trip and haven’t come up with a conclusion. I guess all we can do is offer help to those who want it, and let the others live the way they choose.

Just (Nobody Knows You…When You’re Down, You’re Down And Out) Jack