Ocean Beached 8.29.02
While my school is having Orientation, I am sauntering westward to Ocean Beach in San Frisky. I take a cable car? Trolley car? Overground subway thing? From Mr. Kara's and up and over through some sleepy Queens-like neighborhoods, where everyone is Asian (hey, it is Queens! Good stuff!) and finally to a beach enshrouded in mists and clouds.
I imagine Ireland might look like this. Nova Scotia and Portland, Maine looked like this. Even the people looked different. Dressed in relaxed clothing and built... uhm... "hardy?" Something like that.
Had coffee, read some woman's NY Times. Took the train back. Barely made the plane, after being adventurous with public transportation. Mr. Kara, from your house it took about 1 hour and 20 minutes.
I am on my way. After being searched and having my bag irradiated again. Like in Chicago. I don't mind, and I know it's the security measures and all, but I still feel like I just picked up my second whammy and the Whammy is laughing at me like "ech, ech, ech, ech, wipeout!" If you have no idea what that means you should have been watching Press Your Luck in your free time instead of playing with your Legos or climbing trees or doing extra homework. Ya nerd.
Good bookstore in that SF airport. Bought John Feinstein's "The Last Amateurs," about Patriot League basketball schools like Bucknell, Army, and Lehigh.
And I am on my long, long, long way home. Looking for a good night's rest.