| Anne's son, John, surprised her (overwhelmed her
would be more appropriate) by buying two tickets to the Celtic Woman concert
in the Masonic Auditorium on Nob Hill. Since John has spent little to no
time in the city, we made a day trip, leaving at noon.
First to the wharf in order to buy Alcatraz tickets for later that month, a jacket from "junk row" for John, walk the wharf and we bought lunch from the seafood vendors (clam chowder in a bread bowl and seafood salad sandwich, both yummy) and off the feed the seagulls on our favorite pier. Winds and cold were astonishing, so back to the car, and a tour of Haight. John had no idea what Haight was at all. Amazing. I pointed out all the places we visited now, and all the places I hung out so many years ago when Joplin and the Dead hung around.
We found a new expression - a bus sandwich. That's when you are traveling with a crowd of cars down a tight three lane street and you have a big huge bus on either side of you, so close you could wipe the dirt from their sides with your hand. Very uncomfy. Punch it, babe!
A stop at the Vallejo parking lot next to the Police Station (I found it all by myself!) smack dab in the middle of North Beach, Chinatown and life at it's fullest. Pop into the Gold Spike to show my son one of our favorite places (he loved it!) to visit with Paul, the bartender, have coffee to warm up, try two new liqueurs, then it's time to go. A fast purchase next door (a necklace for his other half, Stacey) and back to Nob Hill for the concert. I am getting to know these streets well without my David.
The Celtic Woman concert was unbelievable. The auditorium was actually quite small compared to what I had expected, a delight in that from row M I had an excellent view, close enough to see details on the girl's fabulous dresses. I had to shake myself several times to remind myself I was not sitting at home watching these phenomenal women on the telly. The sound, the presentation, the purity of their voices, the music, continually brought tears to my eyes, a lump in our throats, continual deafening applaud, and several standing ovations.
Still stunned by the performance, we pile in the car, head home, and chat ourselves right past our turn off. An hour later, still chatting non-stop, we see the J Street Sacramento exit sigh. OMG. Well, at least we know very well where we are. This is exactly where John and Anne got lost going to pick up his sister Jena from the airport coming home from a visit in Mississippi! Gas is $3 a gallon, the stop for gas was in a neighborhood where they literally chain the Am-Pm doors closed at night, four cops cars are just pulling away, and guys hanging about leer easily. <shiver>
Home at 4 am, 400 miles on the nose. San Francisco is about 120 miles away. LOL!!