Love is a Battlefield....ok?

"holy shit" was all I could hear as I looked across the isle of the 757 and out the window. I was even white knuckling the arm rest while the tip of the wing almost touched the ground and we fish tailed like a harpooned swordfish 10 feet above the SFO tarmac. I didn't know you could land a plane going 215 miles an hour in the rain. At any rate, United pulled it off, and at 233.50 per person out of Los Angeles with a whole day of advance booking I was ok with all of it.


Full of myself since the stewardess slipped me her number on the flight, we traversed the awesome airport that is SFO and made our way for the B.A.R.T. the B.A.R.T is pretty easy to navigate, it seems as though you can get about anywhere in the bay area with very little effort. Basically you can catch the B.A.R.T at SFO from about 5:30 A.M until 1:15 A.M on weekdays and around 7 A.M on weekends until 1:15 A.M on weekends. Holidays vary slightly. For complete details and schedules check the B.A.R.T site at http://www.bart.gov
We made it from SFO to the Mission District in about 25 minutes, the ride was uneventful except for some hack drunk college kids that thought that what you did once you got drunk was to talk about how many and what type of drinks you had. With my hate for worthless words I stared at one of my co-passengers with such contempt that he thought I wanted to fight when he seriously uttered the word "electrolytes" as his buddy told him he just had 4 vodka Gatorades. But as we got off the B.A.R.T at 16th /Mission we had the chance to rub elbows with people that can really drink. And when I say drink I mean drink until your life crumbles away all around you and you lay in your own vomit drink. So we finally met up with our host at Guerrero and 17th and found our way to our accommodations.

The building is typical of that classic San Francisco architecture and was as beautiful inside as it was out. Full of warm blankets and fast internet, we set in for the night. My son managed to fit in a few minutes of The Sims as my host and I threw back Anchor Steams and Becks that we bought from a store where the proprietor listened to no promises no demands by Pat Benatar.