So, on Saturday I was to meet some work people in the city for some music and general funness. Since I didn't score a ride with anyone, I joined Dan on CalTrain, for he also wanted to meet a city friend, and neither of us had a car. The train, not far out of San Jose, was more than a half hour late to pick us up in Mountain View. Altogether, owing to "construction," CalTrain managed to get us to the city in only two and a half hours.
And I wandered over to Muni, rode over to Embercadero, hopped off to try the F line, which is the old street cars that run up and down Market Street and over to Fisherman's Wharf, whereabout I was headed. But you know, the street cars weren't going anywhere, because the street traffic wasn't going anywhere, and near as I could tell, it was because of a bay-side fireworks show.
The fireworks actually kicked off while we were still riding Muni to Embarcadero. At first, we thought the throngs of people were for some strange reason wailing on our street car. Then we began to realize that those pounding sounds were fireworks heard through the metal box we were in, and we looked out the windows at the pretty display, and rolled on down in to the subway.
And as I was waiting for an F line street car that couldn't come 'til show's end, I admired the fireworks with everyone else in that part of the city. The pretty visuals mixed well with the impressive reports that bounced off the sky scrapers, and my view was also pleasantly framed by the bay bridge.
And as I surveyed the situation: everything ground to a halt to watch the spectacle, it occurred to me that this was very much the difference between San Francisco and Chicago: 'Frisco shuts down to watch the fireworks, whereas Chicago can have fireworks any time, but traffic isn't going to slow more than it really has to, coz we're "The City that Works." That and the CTA will only take more than twice as long as it should to complete a run only in dire circumstances - obscene weather, massive equipment outage, or accident. CalTrain is inexcusably slow any time it damn well pleases.
Anyways, I eventually got to Bimbo's to dance to some 80's music that really isn't my thing anyway. I need to be a little less keen on going with this particular work crowd ... the tastes tend to run a little more preppy than really works for ol' dannyman. Andrew and Holly gave me a lift back to Mountain View, and I spent a lazy Sunday around the house, though we did get the apartment intranet up; I'm running DHCP NAT behind my single IP. There's an ethernet cable running in to the front room for laptop access. And while the cables are messily running every which way at the moment, things are awfully sweet. The next step is to try out some IPSEC to see about building a VPN between my intranet and Tellme's.
I also managed to call the ladies and wish them a Happy Mother's Day in person. It was a little weird, hearing commercials and stuff for things to do with Mother's Day that assume that your mom is somewhere nearby. I never used to notice that in school, but then in school I could visit home pretty darned easily. I had wanted to send cards, but was too lazy. I was glad that after about two days of trying to remember, Grandma's number came to me.
I had the most bizarre dream last night. I was hanging out with Bill and Hillary and a bunch of other folks. (You know who I'm talking about, and I swear Al must have been there too.) I think we must have been watching a movie, because it was me and Hillary and Bill sitting on the couch together. The couch was packed pretty snug, and I put my arm around Hillary because it had to go somewhere. All I remember was that she started snuggling with me real friendly like. I could tell Bill was a bit jealous but there wasn't much he felt he could do about it. It struck me as awkward, but I wasn't about to complain.
In the shower this morning, I was puzzling over this thing in my head, and did a little math. One thing I've noticed very recently is that a fair number of my relationships have been with women in between them breaking up with that special someone and then getting back together. That's pretty weird too. I don't particularly mind that this has happened, but it isn't the most rewarding experience either. I guess I have to give the ol' subconscious credit for expressing this thesis with such a bizarre metaphor.
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