A HORDE THING

At teatime both of the gentlemen showed up. They had taken their brain pills for a change, and made complete sense. Or maybe that was just me. Sometimes my horridness takes a back seat and I actually cut people some slack. Which is unusual. As a Dutchman, I am always right. You should know that. We Dutch will often patiently explain to other people that we are right, exactly how and why, and if need be we will patiently take the time to do that. Hours. Patiently.

By the time they got there I had already finished an egg tart and was halfway through my milk tea. And I had packed my pipe preparatory to going outside later and wading through masses of slowly dithering tourists, because school is out and both Americans and Europeans like to fustercludge for selfies or to gawk.

This is California. We don't deal well with Americans or Europeans.
And it is blustery and these shopping bags are heavy.
For the love of Chrysler, go away.


But it isn't just the younger crowd in town. It's Pride Month, the parade is coming up, and parents are visiting and coming to terms with the fact that their pride and joy is happily living with an erudite black dominant who has excellent taste, on Russian Hill. They are in awe.
Yes, they feel somewhat lost, and at a loss for words, but they are in awe.
Sonny boy won the lottery in life.

That, more or less, is what was going on at the far table. Which gradually became clear. After I licked the last crumbs of the delicious egg tart from my fingers and was filling my pipe.
I don't think they're at the stage where they'll hug him yet.
But they'll get there.


It could be worse. Their daughter might be living with a snooty Dutch American pipesmoker with intellectual pretensions on Nob Hill, and feeding them salt fish and chilipaste, and other unmentionable substances.

Which I would probably do, if I were attached.
It's salt fish and chilipaste pride.
Every single month.



After dawdling over tea for an hour, I left and lit up. Humongous clusters of people in one of the alleys. Many groups of them with cameras further on. A huge mass of them passing the bus stop where I ended up. A jam-packed bus with spatially unaware beings crossing the hill. And at last, freedom! The wide open range, endless vistas of bare pavement, it still being too early for locals to come home and walk the dog.

Finished smoking the pipe on the back stairs.
It's outside. But enclosed and wind free.
Quiet back there. Private.



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