Some California R&R

Arrived in San Francisco on Friday evening after driving a semi-ridiculous 2,700 miles since leaving Denver on Sunday morning, a mere five days earlier. My "Hump Day" ended up being a hump WEEK, and I was ready for a break from the road. Good thing I had figured as much when I planned this trip out months ago. From this past Friday evening through this coming Wednesday afternoon, the only major driving I have is down the Pacific Coast Highway from San Jose, CA to Los Angeles, a stretch of road that is supposed to be one of the most scenic in the country, and one that I'm actively looking forward to.

My friend Rob -- a brother from another mother since we met on the first day of 5th grade -- lives in San Jose and drove up to San Fran on Friday to meet me.

Rob has been out in California for about three years now. For the two before that, he was in business school in St. Louis. Needless to say, I haven't seen him nearly as much as I would have liked over the past five years and it's always great when we have the chance to hang out. This weekend was no different.

Friday night we did as men do and had a huge steak dinner at Izzy's Steak & Chops, up by the Marina District. It was one of the few "real" meals I'd eaten in the two weeks I'd been on the road, and it was fantastic. They've got some concoction called "Izzy's Own Potatoes" that our waiter Ryan informed us was sort of like potatoes au gratin with Gouda, Parmesan, and some other cheeses mixed in. Verdict: AWESOME.

Ryan was interesting in his own right -- he's about two years younger than me and Rob and used to be a banker in NYC. But his dream was to be a dentist, and he moved back to his native California to pursue a DDS. He's working at Izzy's until he starts school. I guess that's the difference between SF waiters and those in LA: while the latter spend their days trying to get a few lines on Law & Order, our guy could do a round of mezzanine financing for a pre-IPO company and then check our bicuspids for early signs of decay.

We off-set our manly dinner by following it up with a moonlit walk down to the water and a stop for gelato (no -- we didn't get one cup and two spoons).

I think one of the true tests of friendship is being able to be apart for extended periods of time and then pick up right where you left off when you reconnect. From the moment we met at the hotel on Friday, Rob and I talked about every subject under the sun with nary a break in the conversation. He says he'd like to move back to NYC at some point in the future -- for selfish reasons, it can't happen soon enough for me.

We slept in on Saturday and, per my request, did "nothing." Much like my day in Denver the previous Saturday with old HS classmate Emily (still need to cover that in a separate post) I needed a break from doing "stuff" and just wanted to hang out. We walked, we talked, we ate lunch outside at The Franciscan by Fisherman's Wharf (not to be confused with Lieutenant Commander Worf), walked and talked some more, toured the U.S.S. Pampanito, had a sundae at Ghiradelli's, found an old retro-arcade and played some classic 80s/90s video games, walked and talked some more... Pooped from doing nothing, we made the quick drive down to San Jose where we had dinner at The Wing Stop and... talked some more.

Our conversations ranged from the serious to the sublime. We laughed about old times and pondered the vastly different current states of our lives. I reminded him that he doesn't give himself enough credit for, or fully appreciate, the success that he's achieved, and he reminded me that I've got unlimited potential, but that I'm pissing it away. He's always been one of my biggest supporters and cheerleaders, and he offered me some profound thoughts about how to get unstuck from the rut I've been in for quite some time now. For that I'm eternally grateful -- hopefully I can turn words into action.

I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that all this was made possible by Rob's lovely wife Dana, who agreed to let me borrow him, no questions asked, for the weekend. Of course, she got her own "Girl's Night Out" on Friday and Saturday, so I think it was a pretty fair trade.

Today we headed out for a round of golf at a nearby course. We were paired up with Leo and Kevin, an accountant and real estate agent respectively. I don't know how they knew each other, but it seems like they'd been friends for a while -- perhaps they met on the first day of 5th grade too. If you guys are reading this, it was good to meet you and shoot the shit for a few hours.

For me, golf is only partly about the sport aspect. Mostly, it's a nice diversion from whatever it is in my life that happens to be causing stress. One of the things I miss most about home while being on this trip is golf filled weekends with Gideon, Hammer, and whomever else happens to be around. As frustrating and humbling as the game can be, there are few better ways to spend afternoon.

Today, I spent five hours in the warm California sun with one of my oldest and closest friends, met two pretty nice guys, bullshitted about nothing in particular, and more or less didn't have a care in the world for the day. On multiple occasions throughout the round, as the warm sun cascaded down upon us, surrounded by lush fairways and a vista filled by not-too-distant mountains, I turned to Rob and said "Yeah, I can think of worse places to be..."

As a thank you for putting me up for the weekend, I cooked Rob and Dana dinner tonight. Whipped up some of my special potato salad (R.D. -- yes, I used capers) and used my secret marinade on some flank steak that I grilled to friggin' perfection. Some caramelized Vidalia onions on top of the beef rounded things out. (For Loop Type People reading this: the steak was along the lines of the one cooked at Casa Whelan on LBI in Summer '06, not the mediocre beef served at Rivergate BBQ '07). Rob, would you please post a comment and bear witness to how good my meat was? And say something about the steak too... HEY-OOOOOOO!

Dana doesn't cook much, but she's a helluva baker, and she put out a homemade chocolate cake that was fantastic. After eating in restaurants (and Subways) for 2+ weeks straight, it was nice to have a meal that I saw transition from raw to cooked with my own two eyes.

As I type this, Rob and Dana are fast asleep in the other room (at least I assume they're sleeping, though you know never know... they're a frisky couple of kids). They need to get up early in the morning and go off to work like normal people, while I'll continue south to LA on this absurdly privileged journey that I've embarked on. I'll bum around the bizarro world that is Los Angeles for a couple of days before turning back east on Wednesday.

This weekend was the mid-point of my trip and I'll spend a few more days relaxing before starting the long trek home. I'm 5,305.6 miles in and expect to log almost as many more between my departure on Wednesday and my final push into Gotham on my 30th birthday -- Tuesday the 24th.

While in LA I'll try and catch up with some old HS friends who live out there. Langer has hinted at trying to get in a round of golf at some point, and I don't suspect I'll put up too much of a fight. Benny Dice lives pretty close to where I'll be staying and I'll try to grab lunch or dinner with him. Tom G., apparently having discovered this blog via Facebook, sent me a message the other day saying I should get in touch if I'm in town. I haven't seen or spoken to him since 1996 and it would be nice to catch up. If I can get a hold him in the next day or two, I might even be able to meet up with Fenway Ben, whom I believe is working as a real estate agent in Santa Monica.

One common thread between these four guys is that we were all baseball teammates at one point or another while growing up. I'm sure that if I manage to meet up with any or all, there will be some rehashing of stories from back in the day... Jeff's mad dash to first during that summer league game in the early 90s, Donovan's smooth glove work at second, Ben E.'s mystical black bat, and the time during that J.V. game in 1995 that a stray dog urinated on Tom's backpack (I think it was after that same game that a bunch of us bought hot dogs from some sketchy dude in a van -- half the team got sick that night). Tom, if you're reading this you should know that I periodically say "COACH! -- IT HIT HIM RIGHT IN THE DICK!" to no one in particular... Always brings a smile to my face.

All in all, things are good so far. I'm still floored by the number of e-mails and posts coming in every day, and I can't thank everyone enough for reading and staying in touch. I'm going to try and use my time in LA to catch up on some of the stories that I haven't yet had time to tell -- I think some of them are pretty good.

As I said to Rob earlier this afternoon, and as I've thought to myself countless times over the past 16 or so days, I can think of worse places to be...