The Plural of Rendezvous is Rendezvous

[Now this weekend is what I'm talkin' about. In spite of John being sick (I've been doing my best to be presenting the level of attention appropriate to the ongoing weird situation), and being tragically broke, I managed to get some Very San Francisco Fun in yesterday and today.]

[Yesterday, I rendezvoused with my dearest Mulher and her girlfriend WonderWoman at the Chinatown gates. An afternoon of Shameless Tourism awaited. We strolled narrow streets looking for the Ugliest Elephant Under Eight Dollars for WW's mom's collection, finally finding it at a little tchotchke shop in Waverly Place. (I was my usual tour-guide-geek self. "You've read/seen The Joy Luck Club, right?" "Yeah." "Well, this is the street Waverly was named for." "Ohhhh...")]

[We then crossed that invisible line where Chinatown abruptly becomes North Beach, and tried to squeeze into several extremely crowded Italo-American boites before finally settling for an unprepossessing sports bar up Columbus a ways. (M: Pear cider; WW: Coke; moi: Bass ale; all: extremely piquant garlic fries.) Thence to Fisherman's Wharf (I have to check it once a year or so to make sure it's just as tacky as ever), and a tourist stop I'd never actually made. Yes, we actually had Irish coffee at the Buena Vista, where it all began. (Well, I had beer, and took one sip each of M.'s Irish and WW's Bailey's-and-coffee - strong!) I could tell Mulher was well on her way to pulling a Mary Ann Singleton and just not going back to Orange County. Only WW's aversion to the city life kept her from chucking it all, I feel sure.]

[At that point, I parted from Those Girls, to rush home (well, to inch slowly home on the 30 Stockton) to get ready for an evening with Allen's friend Gary H., someone new who appears to like me a bit. Reflected glory is certainly one of the most addictive kinds, especially when enhanced by two cosmos at the Red Room, a pitcher of margaritas and a mediocre chimichanga at the Sotano Grill (scary, downmarket, Joni-Mitchellesque woman in Coke-bottle glasses still wowing the crowd), and a couple more drinquitos for luck at Martuni's. Casey details how close our inebriated urgings got him and The Boyfriend to City Hall. Luckily for him, I hear more couples were turned away today for lack of sufficient deputized personnel to marry everyone. Extraordinary!]

[Bless Gary for an evening and morning of listening and letting me listen, and comfort all sorts of ways. Bless downmarket, Joni-Mitchellesque women in Coke-bottle glasses who work hard for it, honey. Bless Mulher for lighting a candle for me at Old St. Mary's. Bless Casey and The Boyfriend for showing how it's done, perilous shoals and all. Bless Violet and Jessica for telephonic relief from out of town. Bless this damned city - every time I think the romance is off, she and I have a weekend like this, and it's hearts and flowers all over the place.]

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