San Francisco Vacation Day Seven – A Day with Dad
May 8, Friday morning, I woke up to sunshine. As I had on Thursday as well. Very surprising to me as on the peninsula you don’t get sunshine. My mom used to call it TB City when I was a kid because it was so gray and dank and cold. It had been sprinkling and misting when I was staying with my sister in the city proper. And now, here where it was supposedly always cold and dank, it was sunshiny ALL DAY LONG. See? I have proof:
Above, the houses across the street. Below, our “ANCESTRAL HOME…” (heh. See that wood-paneled station wagon? Yup, that’s my dad’s.) But see what I mean? SUN!
Anyway, despite Dad being on call, we made this a play day. He needed to go into the city maybe and run errands and call in, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t ride around with him and maybe hang out in the city with him. So, we started with brunch at IHOP.
Yes, I said IHOP. Quit your cackling.
Anyway, we started with brunch at IHOP, having our father – daughter time. For some reason the waitress decided to bond with me and let me know her story about being laid off from being a nursing assistant four months ago and now she’s waiting tables at an IHOP. She was very excitable and flighty and a little forgettable. It was kinda funny and sweet. It was really funny when she wished me a happy early Mother’s Day. I just nodded and smiled and thought, “I’m not old enough to be a mother! Oh, wait a minute, I guess I am!” Anyway, after brunch we dropped some extra Swedish pancakes off where my stepmom works so she’d have a little something waiting for her when she got there (we found out later it was a good thing because she was busy that day – she’s a barber – and didn’t have time to go out and get lunch).
After Dad ran some other errands, we decided to hop in the car and take off ourselves. It was lunch time now, so Dad decided to take me to Lucky Chances in Colma. I didn’t realize it, but Colma is considered the Graveyard of the Bay Area. There are more dead people in Colma than there are live ones. And right near all those cemeteries, there’s a casino. We ate in the little diner in front, soup and tea, then walked through. There are two sides at Lucky Chances. One side has all these card games going like poker and stuff. The other side is the Chinese side and has all sorts of Asian card games going. There’s a little Buddhist altar in the back of the Chinese side. I guess it doesn’t hurt to call on the Buddha for help. 
And in the very back was a Baccarat room. So, I guess James Bond could have gambled here in someone’s imagination.
Eventually, we took off from there. I needed to drop something off to my sister, which would put us downtown, and after that we ended up, inevitably, at Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39.
It was a beautiful day. We didn’t do much and I used the excuse, “I need to get something for people at the office” as a reason to go through all the little crap shops that lined Jefferson. We found parking right in front and on the wharf. It was great. Now, a few days before I had picked up some Scharffenberger chocolate bars as gifts, but I wanted something that said “San Francisco,” ya know? Everyone suggested shot glasses. And if I knew my co-workers a little better, I might have gotten some. But I’m not sure if some of them might get offended, so Dad and I talked as I considered keychains, magnets, and pencils as additions to the chocolate bars. In the end, I opted for a variety of pencils (we go through’em so fast at the office) to add to the bars, but not before going through all the shops at the front. We even stopped in a shop called Pick a Pearl (part of Maui Divers) where you can pick out oysters and find your own pearls for $14.95 (supposedly the uglier the oyster, the prettier the pearl). But then you have to buy a setting for them. And there goes the farm. It’s a cool idea though and I think I might want to try it some time (and yes I know it’s a gimmick, but I think it’s a cool gimmick – so there).
Dad and I also wandered through Rainforest Cafe and hung out talking to the fishes in this wild fish ladder thing that is like part of the arch leading into the restaurant. It was great, but kinda made me dizzy. The fishes seemed to like it okay though. Then, we stopped by McD’s for coffee, because Dad wanted to try one of McDonald’s iced lattes (you know, the McCafe). But it was such a nice day we didn’t want to stay inside so we wandered across to where there was a pier of sorts. Some of it was under construction, but most of it was still a place to look out at the bay and see Alcatraz in the distance. (If you ever have a chance to tour Alcatraz you should – everyone should do it once. It’s very spook and creepy and it’s a good tour.)
The island, Alcatraz, kind of looks like a ship, don’t you think?
And with the distortion in distance, it almost looks the same size as a ship. But wait a minute – all those little boxes are freight cars…
I never get tired of watching trains and ships. Don’t know why.
Anyway, after that, Dad and I were making desultory conversation when a woman pulling some luggage walked up to the bar there (see pics above) and turned to us to ask us if we could take her picture. She had a very thick English accent mixed with something else so my dad joked, “not with that accent you don’t!” So of course I took her picture and then her picture with Dad and then they compared leaving England stories. She’d moved to New Zealand and was waiting for the market to get better before she sold her house in Birmingham. She was going to Boston and was on a long layover in San Francisco and wanted to see it while she was there. We never got her name. She never got ours. I used her camera to take pics, so I don’t have any pics to show you of her. She could be a complete figment. She could have been telling a complete story. But there you have it, like “Mike” in front of the Gold Cane – a completely San Franciscan experience.
It was getting to be later afternoon. Dad had been checking in, but we wanted to get home to freshen up before we met my stepmom for dinner. So, off we went back to the “ancestral home.” And as we drove up to it I noticed something I had never paid attention to before (possibly because it had never been so sunny before). Look at the side of the building.
You can barely read it, but it says “Record.” And I thought, “Damn, do you think?” And asked Dad and apparently, yes, this building used to be, among other things, the home of the Daly City Record. Dad remembers the holes where the printing machines had been being filled in with sand. Mom also told me (earlier this evening) that that building has been a bookie joint, a brothel, and flop house, as well as what it is now, which is a place where pinball machines and jukeboxes are repaired and stuff. Now if you look at it here:
That long bit on the right is where all the offices were. I remember walking through there to go to the basement to bring Dad his coffee when I was like three. Dad lives in the tall part (see my stepmom and Dad there in the doorway?). And there’s still a business in the basement. It’s kind of decrepit, now, but it seems like some historical society should see about doing something with it some day. A lot of stuff has gone down in that building and it’s right on the San Andreas fault.
Anyway, I decided to take the above pics and while I was at it, my stepmom decided it would be a good time for a family pic. Dad called it American Gothic. I think it’s more well, Daly City Gothic. Ex-pat Gothic? Oh, who knows. Here are my stepmom, Missy, and Dad.
Above is a good pic of Dad and below is a good pic of my stepmom. If I were Jim, I’d put them together, but I don’t know how to do that. So you get them both. (And notice how Missy is trying to hide in both.) (And my stepmom’s hair is normally a little more blond and a little less strawberry. I think she’s been experimenting.)
That night for dinner we went to Patio Espanol where they have olive salad! Yum! We all three had the lamb chops (what can I say, it was a lamb kind of week). Dad and my stepmom are regulars there and kid the waiters a lot. Dad made a joke about it being a Mexican restaurant and got a dirty look because it’s SPANISH. So, it’s similar, kind of, but different, mostly. And good. We had a good evening, though.
Then it was time to head home. I needed to pack for the long train trip back to LA the next day. When I called Amtrak to see whether the fires in Santa Barbara had slowed down service through Santa Barbara they said no. And that I should get there 45 minutes early to check my baggage. So, it was going to be an EARLY morning. My stepmom packed me a lunch/dinner bag for the train with the leftovers from dinner. She thought of everything: crackers, nuts, cookies, lamb chops, latex gloves so I wouldn’t have to wash my hands, and even water. Then Dad remembered an apple and popped that in. And then I needed to try to take one more picture of Missy to see if I could get her to look up at the camera.
Well, almost.
She came in and chatted with me while I packed, but didn’t stay long. I guess she knew Saturday would begin early.
And tomorrow … the train ride.
