Friday, February 24, 2023

FREAK WEATHER

By the time I got to the bus stop on the edge of the Financial District it had started to rain. Panicked people who had left their umbrellas at home huddled under available awnings or started trotting. Having wisely decided to forego the stick for a brolly, I stirred up the ashes in my briar with leisurely carefulness, tapped it out, and ran the cleaner through the shank.
A pipesmoker consigned to the outer darkness to enjoy his smoke is naturally cautious.
And has gloves and something against the possibility of sprinkles.

A devil-may-care insouciance, as it were.

As well as a crappy attitude.

Fatalism.


Henry, Robert, Russ, and Steve had been at the bakery around tea time, talking about Hong Kong, an upcoming trip to Shanghai, and the old walled city of Kowloon (an imperial enclave up to the nineties), which was demolished by Spring of 1994. All four gentlemen are looking forward to traveling this year. One of them already has.

They left at roughly the same time. My pipe took approximately forty minutes, and the temperature was absurdly cold.

And, as I mentioned, it started to rain at the tail end.

Yesterday evening the blizzard made Sacramento Street impassable, the muni bus got stuck halfway to the summit of Nob Hill, and in our frantic desperation we re-enacted the Donner Party. Some of us with considerably more enthusiasm than others. Not me, as I am a restrained man, but I happily shared my bottle of hot sauce.

Nothing says 'chin up, we'll survive, we'll get through this together (more or less)' than a shared bottle of flaming red chili gloop. For those that survive.


Exclamation: "Oh, the humanity!"


It was horribly cold. And intermittently rainy all night. I'll be glad when this weather is over and low to mid-fifties returns. There were moments yesterday when my fingers were blue, even with gloves. And maybe even high fifties! Hurrah!


Well, it will be better than dengue and hurricanes, which is what The South gets.
And we don't have alligators killing our old people.
Or Ron De Santis.



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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

On a different note, written from under the comforter with the heater on…can you recommend a restaurant in SF’s C’Town that serves up actual Mongolian beef? I mean spicy stuff, that on its face, doesn’t need hot sauce? Several restaurants in Oakland’s C’Town don’t believe in using actual heat in the dish. Tasty and savory, yes, but bland as F. Thanks in advance.

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