Leaving San Francisco on the red eye was rough. Probably more so for Dave than for myself. It was a beautiful day, one of those rare days in which the heat from the sun filters through the blinds of your bedroom window and wakes you up even though you're slightly hung over and you've slept in a sleeping bag on a wooden bed frame because your mattress is somewhere on I-80.
As soon as I opened my eyes, my first thought was "Are we making a mistake?" Dave, as you can imagine, was not thrilled about this.
It's not that I actually ENJOY wallowing in misery and depression, though it may seem like that to certain persons that shall remain unnamed. It's just that I need to FEEL the emotions. I need to live them, work them, grind them down, and turn them inside out before I can let go of them.
And so, the day turned into one, long, interminable --albeit delicious--countdown.
10 AM at the farmer's market, where we ate shrimp and snapper ceviche tacos from Primavera and bought Saucisson Sec salami from the Fatted Calf Charcuterie: "Boggie, only 12 hours left."
2PM at Rosamunde in the Lower Haight, where I had a veal and leek sausage and Dave had a beer sausage followed by beers at Toronado: "B! Can you believe today's our last day in San Francisco? How do you feel?"
4PM in Hayes Valley, where we bought a $4 dollar grilled almond and dark chocolate bar from the new Miette candy store: "Sigh. Bogga--only 6 hours left. Can we move back to SF if we hate New York?"
8PM in Hayes Valley, where we had a long leisurely dinner at Absinthe Brasserie, consisting of 4 glasses of wine, spicy fried chickpeas, a dozen oysters, half a Dungeness crab, ricotta dumplings with pesto, pine nuts, and shaved parmesan, and rabbit rillettes doused in duck fat. "Beagie. Just 2 1/2 hours left in the City by the Bay. What did you mean when you said we're East Coasters?"
10:15PM at the airport, waiting to board the plane: "Bigglesworth, this is it. Can you believe we're leaving SF? How do you feel? Are you sad?"
A word of advice to anyone considering moving back to the East Coast:
DON'T LEAVE ON THE RED EYE
