The Adventure begins

It all began as the sun was setting. The inside of the plane was lit with purple lights, with light electronica beeping from the speakers. I was in the center seat, with a a quiet girl on my left and a heavily scented gentleman on my right. The flight was long and quiet, the hours dragged as we hurtled through the dark. At one point all three of us had laptops out, arms tucked against our sides, pecking away with my fingers. I slept when I could, and read my way through A Game of Thrones. Every so often I'd glance up at the little monitor on the seat in front of me, and track the plane as it crossed state after state. Every time I looked up, I was flying further west than I'd ever traveled in my life.

San Francisco International is very modern; bright lights and clear walls. I couldn't get a feel of the West Coast yet, camped outside with my bags in the crisp air. Seth arrived within half an hour, and we drove through the winding streets, ending up right next to the Golden Gate Park on Fulton St. Sleep was quicly embraced, since I was technically up until three o'clock or so.

Friday - I wake to an empty basement, a map and a note waiting for me on Seth's desk. I have an list of things I want to see, but no particular order in seeing them. Today I walk down Fulton st. taking in the dry air and sun and wind. I think I can see a hill rising ahead of me, but when I get closer I realize it's the Pacific. The skies go overcast and gray, the beach mostly deserted. Scattered bits of ash from evening bonfires created a band over the sand. You can have fires legally here, apparently. I wonder if the same applies to fire spinning. My boots and socks are off, and within minutes I'm standing in the Pacific Ocean, thousands of miles from home. I breathe in deep, and feel myself loosen and relax all over. A major milestone in my life is now a matter of history.

The Golden Gate park is full of natural beauty: twisted trees, flowers of every color of the rainbow, teeming with ducks and squirrels and all manner of birds. I saw a heron perched in one of the ponds. There were athletic parks, running tracks, jungle gyms, and museums. I passed a group of skateboarders who could actually do tricks! This further cemented my thoughts that skateboarding only belongs out west. I walked back to the house, changed, and took a bus into Union Square, one of the more touristy spots in the city.

Cable cars raced around on four streets, fancy shops stretched up to the sky, with more locally flavored businesses huddled at their feet. My old roomie Clay appeared out of the crowd, and Seth soon after. He was amazing that I was wearing color. *grin* We ate an old fashioned diner, then went to an improv theater for Secret Identity Crisis. Five actors randomly take the roles of a Hero, Sidekick, Villain, Mentor, and Romatic Interest. They then spin a story with a few suggestions from the audience, and I was floored. I was convinced that they had skeletal scripts that they learned and fleshed out each night. No. Everything they did was improved, and the story changed every night. I couldn't believe the mental alacrity and craft on display in front of me. Their love of what they did showed at every turn, and we all laughed uproariously in the tiny theater.

The night ended across the street, at the hotel Rex. Inside a lushly appointed lobby, we joined the cast for fancy cocktails. We laughed and shared stories, unwinding and basking in the rarefied atmosphere. We raised our glasses to new friends, old queens, and strong drinks. I was drunk on vodka, St. Germaine, the power of imagination, and the seductive presence of San Francisco. One day down.