Apr. 18th, 2009

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I didn't have any real time (or a car) to do anything much fun in San Fran, so here is the run down of what did happen.

Wednesday: Training. Dog tired after class. Ate, went back to the room, read a book, went to bed.

Thursday: Awakened at 5:15 AM by a noise. Coming out of a torpor, my brain tried to piece things together. What is that sound? I've heard that sound before. It sounds like a... A what? A siren? No. An alarm clock? No. A fire alarm. A FIRE ALARM! My hotel caught on fire. I've been told more than once that I'm good under pressure, a kind of clutch guy. This kind of shit is the reason why. Buy me a beer and ask me about the it sometime.

Friday: Finished class with enough time to do a bit of shopping. I ate more cioppino at a more upscale place (Scoma's). Like so much in life, I preferred the food at the more blue collar joint I ate at (it had a deeper, more zesty spice profile) but it was still pretty damn good. I'm adding this into the rotation for the cooler months, along side my super awesome clam chowder. As a side note, I ate the clam chowder at Scoma's. Like so many other places, they try to do too much with it, and the taste suffered.

Saturday: The only remarkable thing about today was that on the flight from Dallas to Raleigh, the three people in my row were me in the window seat (~195 pounds, but pretty broad in the shoulders), a giant longshoreman or something in the middle seat (6'2, easily 250-275 pounds) and a guy about 6'6 and 300 pounds in the isle seat. We all were twisting in different ways so we could fit in the damn seats without being on top of each other. Yeah, that was a fun flight.


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