Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Sex, Seafood, and San Francisco
What a cool fucking weekend. Drove up to Frisco, the Town Car handled beautifully, got great gas mileage (fuck YOU, gas station terrorists), the weather was perfect, and the adventures were superb.
Left friday morning, got into the city by 3:00 p.m., and when we went to check in, the bitchclerk behind the fucking counter tried to give me every room except the one that I goddamn reserved. I always stay at the same hotel, in about the same room, facing the water. This tramp tries to give me a first floor smoking room facing the marina. I'm like, "Yo, that ain't what I reserved on the internet." Bitchclerk is all snotty-like, "That's what we show you with." She left off the "Sir" part. And that started to piss me off. I drove 6 fucking hours so that I could get attitude from some bitch that can't fucking read? I DON'T THINK SO.
So I whipped out my reservation that I had printed and brought with me, that clearly showed a non-smoking room, on the 12th floor, facing the ocean. Bitchclerk is all like, "We don't have any rooms like that available. We have rooms facing the marina." She left off the "Sir" part again. I'm like, "Get your manager, I'm done talking to you." Luckily, the manager happened to walk in right then, and looked at my face. "Is everything allright, sir?"
"No," I said through tight lips, "This woman is trying to give me everything except the room that I reserved. Why is she trying to give me a hard time?" I pushed my internet res at her, and she picked it up, and told bitchclerk to give me my room and stop hassling the paying customers. So, we got the room I wanted, went up, had drinks, had sex, then had dinner.
Saturday, we did the tourist thing, We had breakfast at Bubba Gumps (complete with an actor playing Forest Gump) on Pier 39, walked down to Fisherman's Wharf, the Bay cruise (I didn't feel like going onto Alcatraz again) the submarine tour, cruising the old haunts, and of course, drinking to excess. It was a full day. We had dinner at the Gingerbread House with Miss Noelle, and she was in fucking full effect. I explained that Miss Noelle was a persona, so take her with a grain of salt. We went back to our room and had vigorous and spirited sex, then I passed out.
Sunday, I was considering going to Mecca, also known as McAfee Stadium and going to the Raider game, but Al Davis was too stupid to schedule the Raiders to play at home when I was in town, so that plan went to shit. We ended up going to a late breakfast, because we were watching/listening to the Raider game. I wanted to blow off the game and go eat, because I had burned up a lot of energy the night before, but, I wanted to cheer my team to victory. Well, you know what happened. I had a crab and shrimp omelette, which was good, but the defeat (an interception on the last play of the game) left a bitter fucking taste in my mouth. I choked down the food, then we drove over to Sausilito and spent the day there. An 800 sq. foot house was going for 1.7 million. Right.
Drove back into Frisco in the evening and went to go see Borat, since Casino Royale was sold out. Borat was fucking funny, but the San Francisco audience started hissing when dude was talking about homos. That was fucking funny to me. We left the theater and had dinner at Castognolas. Went to the blues club next door for drinks, and like an ass, I did not make it to Yoshi's. Staggered back to the hotel, had sex again, and passed out like a rock. Sheesh.
Monday, return to the real world. Bah. Got up late, left late, and didn't make it to Pacific Coast Highway. Bah again.
Uneventful journey back, except that all the California Highway Patrol guys were going north, and we were going south, so THAT was all good. Average mileage was about 22, which ain't bad.
Next trip, a return to Monterey.
Left friday morning, got into the city by 3:00 p.m., and when we went to check in, the bitchclerk behind the fucking counter tried to give me every room except the one that I goddamn reserved. I always stay at the same hotel, in about the same room, facing the water. This tramp tries to give me a first floor smoking room facing the marina. I'm like, "Yo, that ain't what I reserved on the internet." Bitchclerk is all snotty-like, "That's what we show you with." She left off the "Sir" part. And that started to piss me off. I drove 6 fucking hours so that I could get attitude from some bitch that can't fucking read? I DON'T THINK SO.
So I whipped out my reservation that I had printed and brought with me, that clearly showed a non-smoking room, on the 12th floor, facing the ocean. Bitchclerk is all like, "We don't have any rooms like that available. We have rooms facing the marina." She left off the "Sir" part again. I'm like, "Get your manager, I'm done talking to you." Luckily, the manager happened to walk in right then, and looked at my face. "Is everything allright, sir?"
"No," I said through tight lips, "This woman is trying to give me everything except the room that I reserved. Why is she trying to give me a hard time?" I pushed my internet res at her, and she picked it up, and told bitchclerk to give me my room and stop hassling the paying customers. So, we got the room I wanted, went up, had drinks, had sex, then had dinner.
Saturday, we did the tourist thing, We had breakfast at Bubba Gumps (complete with an actor playing Forest Gump) on Pier 39, walked down to Fisherman's Wharf, the Bay cruise (I didn't feel like going onto Alcatraz again) the submarine tour, cruising the old haunts, and of course, drinking to excess. It was a full day. We had dinner at the Gingerbread House with Miss Noelle, and she was in fucking full effect. I explained that Miss Noelle was a persona, so take her with a grain of salt. We went back to our room and had vigorous and spirited sex, then I passed out.
Sunday, I was considering going to Mecca, also known as McAfee Stadium and going to the Raider game, but Al Davis was too stupid to schedule the Raiders to play at home when I was in town, so that plan went to shit. We ended up going to a late breakfast, because we were watching/listening to the Raider game. I wanted to blow off the game and go eat, because I had burned up a lot of energy the night before, but, I wanted to cheer my team to victory. Well, you know what happened. I had a crab and shrimp omelette, which was good, but the defeat (an interception on the last play of the game) left a bitter fucking taste in my mouth. I choked down the food, then we drove over to Sausilito and spent the day there. An 800 sq. foot house was going for 1.7 million. Right.
Drove back into Frisco in the evening and went to go see Borat, since Casino Royale was sold out. Borat was fucking funny, but the San Francisco audience started hissing when dude was talking about homos. That was fucking funny to me. We left the theater and had dinner at Castognolas. Went to the blues club next door for drinks, and like an ass, I did not make it to Yoshi's. Staggered back to the hotel, had sex again, and passed out like a rock. Sheesh.
Monday, return to the real world. Bah. Got up late, left late, and didn't make it to Pacific Coast Highway. Bah again.
Uneventful journey back, except that all the California Highway Patrol guys were going north, and we were going south, so THAT was all good. Average mileage was about 22, which ain't bad.
Next trip, a return to Monterey.
// posted by The Wonderfulness Of Dr. Speed @ 10:19 PM 
