In the midst of a conversation about watches vs. purses (which is the more worthy investment?) and creating a fan club for her cute coworker (total membership: 2), Livia tells me she will be taking advantage of the Jet Blue sale to visit me in March. By the end of the day, she had set a date and recruited kbui and M&M.
(I'm using code names to protect your identities. You know, since I have so many readers and all.)
Friday night started off bumpy.
The original plan was to leave the banquet 30 minutes early so I can pull into SFO just as the girls got off their flight. However, the banquet ran late. I had underestimated the time it would take for group photos. It's never just one shot of everyone smiling. I forgot to consider the additional serious pose, cute pose, and goofy pose, all of which have to be repeated for every DSLR in the room.
After the final pictures were taken, I ran out of the banquet and through six blocks of Fisherman's Wharf as best as I could in my stilettos and gunned it to the airport. We then hurriedly got ready and uber'ed over to Polk Street.
Now, I always knew my friends were attractive. I brag about it a lot. New friends, any guy I've dated, and all of my coworkers have been forced to sit there as I flip through my facebook and point out each one. (There has never been a logical transition into this. Either I change the topic abruptly or I break the silence with, "Wanna see my friends?" I can't recall their responses, because I start logging in before they have the time to reply.)
Polk Street confirmed that I am not just blinded by my love for them.
It started off with a guy asking for a picture of the girls so that he can keep it on his phone. (He didn't get one). We then got whisked up to the section that was roped off (I'm guessing for the ladies who prefer not to be groped in the sausage fest that is Playland's dance floor). Until this point, I just thought "Man, I guess this bar is where all the extra-creepy guys hang out," and "Oh wow, the security guards here are really thoughtful.'
By the time we got to our 3rd or 4th stop, I noticed that the faces around us were starting to become more and more familiar. I realized that at each new bar, my friends had unknowingly recruited a group of guys that would continuously follow them to the next destination. At one point, I sat back on a bar stool to watch as one guy and his two wingmen tried to guess our age while two more groups patiently hovered nearby, waiting for the chance to squeeze in and say, "Oh what?? We run into each other again? It's like you're stalking us!" (None were particularly witty.)
Thank you girls for a memorable weekend full of good food and fun. I don't know who else would patiently go along as I drag them around the city for food (dim sum in Inner Richmond, donuts in the Marina, egg tarts in Chinatown, San Tung in Inner Sunset, and finally banana cream pie in Berkeley - all in one day).
I waited in line for this dan tat for 1 hour.
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