Monday, April 06, 2009

Anaheim to San Francisco via 101 and a happy Sunday

The ex-teenager is on spring break; she flew to Orange County last week and stayed with a friend. We spent the night at my cousin's place in Anaheim, and left about 8:39am (what are you laughing about?) -- our plan was to meet the lovely Carol, and the remaining teenager, in San Francisco by 5 or 6pm. The quick route (I-5 to either 152 or 580) would have given us a lot of time, but we decided that nine hours should be ample time, even taking 101. I took the wheel for the first couple of hours, taking 91 west
what's with that btw? Odd numbers like 57, 55, 5, 101 are supposed to be north-south; east-west routes should be even numbers like 60, 10, 22
to 5N to 101. We stopped at a beach in Ventura County -- Bonaventura maybe? -- to use their facilities and stretch our legs.

We made a few more stops -- a rest stop somewhere, and she took the wheel. It was a lovely drive -- gorgeous scenery and of course great conversations with my college sophomore. We talked about optimality theory; the value of a 2nd major (linguistics and computer science?) vs a semester abroad; boy-girl relationships (now what are you laughing about?) and whether "autonomy" means "the power to name oneself."

About 3:30 or so, we were not yet at the southern 85/101 junction. I predicted that we wouldn't get to Redwood City by 4:15 (i.e., in time to take showers and get changed and still get to SF by 5:30). Often wrong, seldom in doubt, yep....

We pulled off the freeway in Redwood City a few minutes past 4pm -- so my daughter got a shower while I unpacked, changed into clothing that would please the lovely Carol, and wrapped a present for the teenager that I knew would be a big hit. (How did I know this? Simplicity itself: we were at the bookstore some weeks ago, and she pulled this book off the shelf and cooed about the beauty of the images.)

Half an hour later, we were back in the car for the drive to SF. We made only one wrong turn, and got to Pellegrini's within a few minutes of 5:30 -- well before our 6pm goal. A happy reunion. The pasta at this place was great, and the bread... well, they had great pasta.

We emerged and found someone else getting settled in the parking lot. "What space?" I heard, followed by "Number five!"

I pulled the slip off my own dashboard. "If you park in #3," I called out, "you won't have to pay." I handed the slip to a tall young (taller and younger than I am, anyway) fellow. These folks were very happy -- one of them handed Carol a $10 bill, and another one gave me a box labeled "eau de toilette." This was the latest stuff, he said. "This is really good shit."

I didn't feel too bad about depriving the parking-lot operator; we really hadn't got fifteen dollars' value from two hours' parking.

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