I'll start towards the end: hunting for a perfect hot toddy in North Beach and finding several mediocre hot whiskeys, with a sidetracked mission for the perfect cannoli that resulted in a mediocre cannoli and gelato and espresso splurgefest. Looking for parking in North Beach, arguably one of the biggest tourist destinations on one of the biggest tourist weekend, and finding the perfect spot across from the perfectly uncrowded restaurant featuring the perfect bacon gorgonzola cheese burger.
Driving up and hitting traffic in fucking Templeton of all places, calling D and her spending twenty minutes searching online for the source of the traffic jam to see if it would be worth it for me to even continue on, and the knowledge that she would do this for me without question.
Filet mignon topped with foie gras.
Stopping for gas on the way, my two-year-old, five dollar flip flop breaking as I'm getting out of the car and as I reach down to pick it up, the heinous wind blows it fifty feet away in a matter of seconds.
More later.