Told you I was serious this time.
At the BART station in Oakland. This train actually travels under the bay for like 9 minutes…which sounds cool, until you’re actually hurtling through the tunnel and there all these abrasive screeching noises and you’re pretty sure the whole thing’s going to cave in.
Between the car, the hotel, and Liz’s Apartment, he’s just enjoyed nearly 48 hours of rest. And still, still he’s too tired to walk.
Liz is one of the most fun people I’ve ever met.
Streetscape in the general vicinity of the Castro.
Downtown. They call it the Financial District.
Downtown. I call it Downtown.
Approaching the Waterfront.
Liz’s Apartment in Oakland.
The View from Liz’s Apartment. (I know.)
Emily looks cute here. Liz looks genuinely warm and affectionate. The dog looks like Satan’s Elephant Seal.
My Cousin lives in San Mateo, and is much better at posing for photos than I am.
So on the way back to Oregon, we hit a pretty bad snowstorm. Actually, we hit several bad snowstorms. I was at the wheel when we hit the first, and managed to do a near 180 with the car. I am still a Georgia driver at heart, natch.
Anyway, we pull over to the side of the road to catch our breath, and while I’m climbing into the passenger seat and feeling grateful our fate was not that of the mini-van ahead of us that crashed into the snow bank, William is outside in his flimsy pea coat attempting to help the people in the van. Fucking do-gooder.
Hey, Oregon! It’s been a little while. How’ve things — oh, what’s that? You can’t talk right now because you’re too busy being the overcast embodiment of my depression? I understand. Well, good to see you anyway.