Bay Area Chronicles, Day 2
Day 2 of my stay began with breakfast with higher-order life-liver sister Jilly, more or less getting caught up on life and what not. The best story: Jilly traveled to China a few years back and, while there, flew to a remote section of the country to purchase a five-foot terra cotta warrior. The process involed negotiating with a non-English speaking merchant, filling out mountains of paperwork, and having it shipped by ship to the U.S. But sometimes, for a great piece of decor you'll do that kind of thing. Once the warrior arrived at customs, Jilly and a friend had to rent a U-haul, go to customs and tip everybody, uncrate the meticulously packed thing in the street and haul it up to her apartment. They even tipped the U-haul guys to dispose of all the remnants of the packing stuff for them. On the way home from the U-haul place, they passed by a store that does one thing: Orders terra-cotta warriors direct from the non-English speaking merchant in remote China, uncrates the warriors and delivers them right to you apartment. She still hasn't been in the store. The warrior currently stands watch over potential diners in Jilly's dining room...and the way he hold his hands, if you aren't careful when you're leaving the table if other diners are seated...well...let's just say that if he were a combination doctor/warrior, he could check males for a hernia. Jilly said it's happened before.
The first order of the day was heading off to the wedding site at the Ritz Carlton at Half Moon Bay...about 45 minutes away. Just hearing the words "Ritz Carlton" and "bay" together created all sorts of expectations of the view and it didn't disappoint. They've chosen a beautiful spot to exchange vows and enjoy the day with friends. We talked about practical outworkings of the ceremony and such, and Jilly told me some wedding horror stories that the hotel's wedding coordinator shared with her while we had libations staring out at the magnificent spot they chose to exchange vows and enjoy the day with friends. As we were about to leave Jilly asked me if I had any small bills after looking in her purse. I gave her a few, expecting her to place them as a tip into the faux-leather check holder. Instead she put them in her purse (she had already tipped our waitress and was planning to tip the valet in the parking lot, unbeknownst to me) and I told her she invented the best scheme ever...just ask somebody if they have small bills and then take them and put them in your wallet! Later, I tried to invent a game where we both put all the money we had in our wallets on the table and then split the pile evenly. She didn't want to play that game for some reason.
After that we were off to eat lunch with the barnstorming pilot fiance Shane at work at the airport diner. We had an enjoyable lunch (where old WWII veteran pilots have their own table to tell lies and give flight advice, which they've actually rigged with a web cam so they can check to see if their friends are there) and then Jilly and Shane told me that it was windy and such flights could cause nausea...to which I informed them that as a youth pastor I had eaten 13 pieces of CiCi's Pizza and played tackle football with my senior guys, not to mention I once had an 8-year "no throw up" streak so their concerns were null and void.
Something else that doesn't suck: A tour of the SF Bay from 2,000 feet in the air. The Golden Gate. Alcatraz. Sailboats int the bay. Coit Tower. Sausalito. All the tourist landmarks. We were in the air about an hour and I can see why Jilly and Shane are in love with flying. Not only the entire veiws and all, but also the process. The safety checks. The chatter between the towers and the pilots. The whole deal. Loser moment of the flight for me: I saw a beautiful church in SF with a huge crowd in the park across from it. "Are they there holding vigil for the Pope?" Shane replied, "I don't think so...that's the Guinness Beer and Oyster Festival."
A side note about the pilot subculture: Shane regailed me of stories of "dot.com" millionaires who ditched their wives for flight instructors at a cost of about $22 million or an Argentinian super-model-looking flight instructor who logs flight hours on all the best planes but no one can name one of her students. Apparently, that subculture would make for a great, seedy television show.
Strangest sight from the flight: Through some bureaucratic snafu, the only building that is allowed on the beach at Mavericks surf area (a major draw to surfers all over the world), is a Taco Bell. You have cliffs surrounding it, with a view of some of the world's most daring surfers in some of the most challening waves the Pacific can offer, and there's a bunch of surfers going to the walk-up window at a Taco Bell. I kind of want to eat there.
After watching some basketball, we were off to SF to eat at a restaurant they had been wanting to try. There's just something really enjoyable about a well-prepared and presented meal, with some wine that went with the food, and great conversation about thing serous as well as silly. I lost a bet about what "brick chicken" was and Shane proved his theory that after a glass of wine, jokes about "poo" are funny to everyone. The first attempted proof of his theory came when he had a small bout of Voice Immodulation Syndrome involving a variation of the word "poo" and sure enough, we laughed out loud.
On the way home I got a reminder we were actually in San Francisco when I saw a sign outside a club that read: "Live Nude Male Revue! Venezulean Boy Leonardo Performs!" I asked Shane what the particular allure to that seedy subculture would be of a Venezuelan boy, to which he replied, "Poop Corn Nuts." Again attempting to prove his theory. We'll see if he thinks its so funny when those exact words are the entire toast I make at his wedding. That'll be the true test of his theory, I imagine.
Here's the bottom line: Yes. Aboslutely. Nice meals at nice restaurants with nice views and flying over the bay in an airplane and going to ball games in new ballparks are enjoyable experiences for me...ones that are certainly not normal occurrances in my world. But what's made this trip enjoyable has been an undeniable reality that my higher-order life-liver baby sister has chosen well in someone to grow old with, and that she's truly happy. Despite her sore back you can see it. I know Shane has chosen well, too. Sometimes the seedy pilot subulture gets romantic, I suppose.
Poop Corn Nuts.
See.
It's funny every time.
Day 2 of my stay began with breakfast with higher-order life-liver sister Jilly, more or less getting caught up on life and what not. The best story: Jilly traveled to China a few years back and, while there, flew to a remote section of the country to purchase a five-foot terra cotta warrior. The process involed negotiating with a non-English speaking merchant, filling out mountains of paperwork, and having it shipped by ship to the U.S. But sometimes, for a great piece of decor you'll do that kind of thing. Once the warrior arrived at customs, Jilly and a friend had to rent a U-haul, go to customs and tip everybody, uncrate the meticulously packed thing in the street and haul it up to her apartment. They even tipped the U-haul guys to dispose of all the remnants of the packing stuff for them. On the way home from the U-haul place, they passed by a store that does one thing: Orders terra-cotta warriors direct from the non-English speaking merchant in remote China, uncrates the warriors and delivers them right to you apartment. She still hasn't been in the store. The warrior currently stands watch over potential diners in Jilly's dining room...and the way he hold his hands, if you aren't careful when you're leaving the table if other diners are seated...well...let's just say that if he were a combination doctor/warrior, he could check males for a hernia. Jilly said it's happened before.
The first order of the day was heading off to the wedding site at the Ritz Carlton at Half Moon Bay...about 45 minutes away. Just hearing the words "Ritz Carlton" and "bay" together created all sorts of expectations of the view and it didn't disappoint. They've chosen a beautiful spot to exchange vows and enjoy the day with friends. We talked about practical outworkings of the ceremony and such, and Jilly told me some wedding horror stories that the hotel's wedding coordinator shared with her while we had libations staring out at the magnificent spot they chose to exchange vows and enjoy the day with friends. As we were about to leave Jilly asked me if I had any small bills after looking in her purse. I gave her a few, expecting her to place them as a tip into the faux-leather check holder. Instead she put them in her purse (she had already tipped our waitress and was planning to tip the valet in the parking lot, unbeknownst to me) and I told her she invented the best scheme ever...just ask somebody if they have small bills and then take them and put them in your wallet! Later, I tried to invent a game where we both put all the money we had in our wallets on the table and then split the pile evenly. She didn't want to play that game for some reason.
After that we were off to eat lunch with the barnstorming pilot fiance Shane at work at the airport diner. We had an enjoyable lunch (where old WWII veteran pilots have their own table to tell lies and give flight advice, which they've actually rigged with a web cam so they can check to see if their friends are there) and then Jilly and Shane told me that it was windy and such flights could cause nausea...to which I informed them that as a youth pastor I had eaten 13 pieces of CiCi's Pizza and played tackle football with my senior guys, not to mention I once had an 8-year "no throw up" streak so their concerns were null and void.
Something else that doesn't suck: A tour of the SF Bay from 2,000 feet in the air. The Golden Gate. Alcatraz. Sailboats int the bay. Coit Tower. Sausalito. All the tourist landmarks. We were in the air about an hour and I can see why Jilly and Shane are in love with flying. Not only the entire veiws and all, but also the process. The safety checks. The chatter between the towers and the pilots. The whole deal. Loser moment of the flight for me: I saw a beautiful church in SF with a huge crowd in the park across from it. "Are they there holding vigil for the Pope?" Shane replied, "I don't think so...that's the Guinness Beer and Oyster Festival."
A side note about the pilot subculture: Shane regailed me of stories of "dot.com" millionaires who ditched their wives for flight instructors at a cost of about $22 million or an Argentinian super-model-looking flight instructor who logs flight hours on all the best planes but no one can name one of her students. Apparently, that subculture would make for a great, seedy television show.
Strangest sight from the flight: Through some bureaucratic snafu, the only building that is allowed on the beach at Mavericks surf area (a major draw to surfers all over the world), is a Taco Bell. You have cliffs surrounding it, with a view of some of the world's most daring surfers in some of the most challening waves the Pacific can offer, and there's a bunch of surfers going to the walk-up window at a Taco Bell. I kind of want to eat there.
After watching some basketball, we were off to SF to eat at a restaurant they had been wanting to try. There's just something really enjoyable about a well-prepared and presented meal, with some wine that went with the food, and great conversation about thing serous as well as silly. I lost a bet about what "brick chicken" was and Shane proved his theory that after a glass of wine, jokes about "poo" are funny to everyone. The first attempted proof of his theory came when he had a small bout of Voice Immodulation Syndrome involving a variation of the word "poo" and sure enough, we laughed out loud.
On the way home I got a reminder we were actually in San Francisco when I saw a sign outside a club that read: "Live Nude Male Revue! Venezulean Boy Leonardo Performs!" I asked Shane what the particular allure to that seedy subculture would be of a Venezuelan boy, to which he replied, "Poop Corn Nuts." Again attempting to prove his theory. We'll see if he thinks its so funny when those exact words are the entire toast I make at his wedding. That'll be the true test of his theory, I imagine.
Here's the bottom line: Yes. Aboslutely. Nice meals at nice restaurants with nice views and flying over the bay in an airplane and going to ball games in new ballparks are enjoyable experiences for me...ones that are certainly not normal occurrances in my world. But what's made this trip enjoyable has been an undeniable reality that my higher-order life-liver baby sister has chosen well in someone to grow old with, and that she's truly happy. Despite her sore back you can see it. I know Shane has chosen well, too. Sometimes the seedy pilot subulture gets romantic, I suppose.
Poop Corn Nuts.
See.
It's funny every time.
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