Eight hours later, I'm back in the same coffee shop. This time my Dad is with me. In the past eight hours, I've walked around the area near Market and Van Ness, caught a bus to Fisherman's Wharf, seen the sea lions 'arf'ing at Pier 39 for the second time in my life, caught a bus back down south on Van Ness, walked down Mission, and returned to this coffeeshop. Somewhere in there, I ate one of those sourdough bread bowls filled with clam chowder. I can't remember who recommended those to me, but thank you kind sir/ma'am. They're very good.

Now, we may go see some music, grab a drink, or just go back to the Travelodge. I'm sure Magill would appreciate the latter. Poor kitty.

After I left this coffeeshop earlier today, a guy at 24th and Mission asked me if I was into the Black or the White. I said no. I wonder what that meant. I figured heroin/cocaine. But I'm not sure. What ran through my head shortly after the exchange was the song "I'm Waiting For My Man" by the Velvet Underground. Cuz, you know, it's about waiting for your heroin dealer and whatnot. And me, when he asked about the black and white, I was waiting for my "Old Man". I've always been given to puns, and somehow this event falls in line.

Next: Getting drunk with Dad at a bar...