Okay. First thing first. No, I did not need pants in San Francisco as there was record heat, so ‘nyah’. Just ask the guy behind the counter at City Lights bookstore which has neither air conditioning or fans and was sauna-like forcing the assorted literary pilgrims to grab copies of The Sheltering Sky with which to fan themselves. I settled for Jonathan Lethem’s The Disappointment Artist, which is a light breezy read…(get it?) perfect for filling the time waiting on delayed planes at SFO as well as keeping seatmates from talking to you.
Regardless of the heat, the lithe and plucky mrs tbogg and I walked the ridiculously steep hills of San Francisco all weekend visiting Chinatown and North Beach where we Thai fed ourselves and visited assorted trattorias, sampling their wares and drinking massive amounts of wine (her) and San Pellegrino (me). We also visited many bookstores (because, as you know, San Diego is pre-literate), saw a baseball game (nice park) and witnessed a spectacular fireworks show (still don’t know what the hell that was about) Friday night from our hotel room balcony.
Our only disappointment was getting to San Francisco on Friday and seeing that Kathy Griffin was at the War
wickfield that night…and the show was sold-out.
Kathy Griffin…a big gay audience….comedy gold.
So now…back to reality.