It was a nice drive out to Frisco. I went along the coast, north to the city, but before I got there I was instructed, by my buddy, to move more to the east as he was residing in the city of Hayward now. So I went around and found the general area, after many u-turns and backtracking, only to find out he was at a wine and cheese festival across the bridge in another city. So I went across the bridge, the San Mateo I think, to the other side and found him after much cell phone tag. Now the drive across the bridge was staggering and beautiful all at the same time. As you head out you realize that not only is the bay to your right, full of the sea and resplendent in the sun, and then you turn to the left, and the same thing confronts you. The beauty of the sea. But the bridge is disarming as it looks like a little high tide would make crossing that thing an alarming and dangerous endeavor. Now as you are unable to stop on the bridge to look out across the bay, and more to the point to look down slightly to see the distance between the tide and the bridges proximity, it is an unnerving drive to make. But its freakiness in no way makes the drive any less beautiful.
So across the bridge I went and into the street faire/festival/excuse to drink in the streets. I found my buddy and his man and we hung out a bit and I got some island noodles. I had arrived when the faire was thinking of closing so we meandered around the street we were on till they found a wine bar they wanted to visit. We sat for a bit, they had wine, I had water, and we all shared some olives with garlic and I think vinegar on them. They were good and strong, as most olives should be I think, and then we headed back to their home. My buddy’s man was in the mood to smoke some frop so he rode with me and my buddy rode in his own car. As soon as we got into the car my buddy’s man whipped out a tincture from apple cider vinegar and frop and he gave me, as he put it, my recommended dose. I didn’t feel it at first but then as we drove along and hit the bridge it came on with quite a vengeance and the smoking slightly stalled. Then we got to their house and the bong came out and my head neared the floor. They had some whaler’s rum and cokes and I must say, to say that whalers is “tasty” is like saying that home made ice cream is a little “creamy”. They are both correct statements, but they are also both a bit tame. So we sat, and drank, and smoked, and my buddy’s man ended up going to bed. We stayed up for a bit longer and watched some crazy shows he had on DVD and I tried to stop the spins.
