Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Freezing in Frisco

           Mark Twain is rumored to have said, "The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco."  And that’s exactly how I felt on Friday when I had to go there for ANOTHER Covid test prior to an upcoming surgery.

          Unwisely, I wore open-toed sandals, white jeans, a T-shirt and an overblouse. It’s been 100 degrees where I live, and I couldn’t believe this nearby city could be that much colder. I was wrong.

          Had we been able to stay inside, out of the chilly wind, it would have been fine. But we had decided to take the train and have an adventure. This also included riding on BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit), which took us to the sketchiest area that Amtrak services.

          Lest you wonder what I mean by sketchy, this is a bench we saw:

          Take a closer look toward the back of the seat. Yes, those are sharp screws sticking straight up. I can only imagine the screams of pain from anyone who might sit down without looking.

          We finished up and went back to the train station. Two trains came in simultaneously, and as we were trying to figure out which one would take us home, the correct one left. We now had two more hours to sit on hard concrete benches and wait. Soon Bob decided to use the restroom. But this required going back inside and walking through the station.  I now had blisters from my sandals, and couldn’t walk with him. But I assured him I’d be fine alone on the platform.

          For fifteen minutes I kept saying, “Go! I’ll be fine!” to which he would reply, “I’m not leaving you here. It’s dangerous.”  Finally he placed something beside me and took off.  I looked down and discovered his pocket knife. That’s right, a POCKET KNIFE.  Just the thing to defend myself if, say, Crocodile Dundee shows up.

          Soon he was back, but now he noticed swarms of ants on the ground. “It’s like Dunkirk!” he said, and began stomping furiously. He looked like a flamenco dancer who has never studied flamenco dancing. 

         Then my feet were freezing, so Bob emptied out the backpack and told me to put my feet inside. “Here,” he said brightly, “you can just bunny hop over when the train comes.”

          “I am not bunny hopping,” I said. And now I’m mad at myself for not dressing warmly or wearing shoes and socks.

          And then he earns his sainthood again by taking off his shoes and socks, and giving me his socks to wear. What a guy. I warmed up immediately. Always travel with a buddy.

And with a good book to read.  I recommend these!


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