The City by the Bay - Day 2 - The Waterfront (Or: "A Long Day's Journey Into Night")

7/9/17, “The Waterfront” (Or: “A Long Day’s Journey Into Night”)
San Francisco International Airport, California (SFO)

While yesterday was spent honoring the contributions made on the home front, today was spent on a different front: the waterfront.  However, perhaps a different title for this entry would be more apropos, especially in light of the bizarre string of racing around I did that ended up at the house of the playwright who wrote that play and in light of the fact that I am flying home tonight.

It has been a long day, and it is a day that allowed me to experience more the San Francisco that I remembered from my childhood, as opposed to the NPS units I visited yesterday in Contra Costa.  I visited three NPS units today, two on the waterfront and the third the home of a famous playwright, a very famous playwright.  It was a nice way to round out the trip, but I am glad to be getting home.

After I closed last night, I crashed almost as soon as I got back to my room.  I was asleep before 9 PM, and I got six full REM cycles, waking up a little before 6 AM.  I caught another full REM cycle (seven total, now) and headed down for breakfast, taking with me everything I would need to walk to the waterfront and claim my first NPS unit.  This time there was no wait to be seated.  The buffet was identical to yesterday, but, the advantage of having the same buffet two mornings in a row is that, rather than trying everything, you can just pick your favs.

I got two mini bagels with lox and cheese, along with a piece of sweet bread.  Then, for my hot food, I got two waffles with eggs, potatoes, sausage, and bacon (which was ready but running low), the same as last time, plus a sticky bun.  After breakfast, I lit up a Nat Sherman’s and walked to the waterfront.

It was a nice walk, a little over a mile, but, when I got there, I realized that I had made some serious tactical errors.  Very serious.  I was running on a tight schedule, and I had hoped to be at the next site with an absolute latest hard arrival of 11:30 AM, as the shuttle to Eugene O’Neill NHS was at 1:50 PM.  When I got to Hyde Pier, which was part of San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park, I realized the extent of the errors.

It was just after 9 AM, but the VC did not open until 9:30 AM.  The only place to get the brochure was inside the VC, but the gift shop, which was already open, actually had a stamp.  I had a brochure in Scarsdale, but I had not brought it.  That was tactical error number two.  The third error was the most egregious.  I had thought that parking would be so hard that it would be quicker to walk to Hyde Pier and back to my hotel than to try and find parking.  Not so.  I could have found parking right by the VC.

In fact, I could have packed my stuff, gotten my car, and driven to the VC for a hard 9:30 AM arrival.  As it was now, I would be lucky to be this close to my next site in my car by 10:30 AM.  That hour, that precious hour, was a very painful loss.  I got some souvenirs at the shop, then went to a more generic shop next door, where I got some Ghirardelli chocolate and a keychain that reminded me of the one I got when I came here as a kid.  When the VC opened, I got my brochure and stamp, along with another stamp at the shop.

I then took a ceremonial picture and got a taxi back to my hotel, not having a moment to spare.  My cigar was going out, and I held it out the window.  The driver asked where I was from, and I told him New York.  He said that he heard that New York was expensive, and, laughing, I told him that it was much cheaper than San Francisco.  We compared a few prices, and he was shocked how much cheaper things were in NYC than SF.  I got to my hotel, requested my car, got my stuff, and headed back down.

My car was actually already there, but it took me a few minutes to learn that.  From there, it was a straight shot to Point Reyes National Seashore.  My reader will recall that I was shooting for a hard 11:30 AM arrival.  It was through San Fran’s iconic hilly streets, over the iconic Golden Gate Bridge, covered by equally iconic fog, and then to the VC. I hit the hard 11:30 AM arrival almost on the nose, but then I realized another tactical error.

The VC was actually pretty far inland, and I could not claim a National Seashore without taking a ceremonial picture from, well, the seashore.  I asked where the nearest place I could see the water was, and I was told it would be a twenty minute drive.  Reader, I had only allocated forty-five minutes to visit the whole site, including the VC, my ceremonial picture, and a walk.

The drive was closer to fifteen minutes, and I lit up an H. Upmann to get started on it.  I knew it would be tight.  I figured, if I wanted to make the tour at 1:50 PM, I needed a hard 12:05 PM departure from the seashore, at the absolute latest.  I think it was about 11:55 AM when I got to the parking lot.  How the hell was I going to make a hard 12:05 PM departure?!?  It was also a fair amount of walking to the beach.  I got out, and I started walking.  It was a few minutes after noon when I got to the beach.  I took a ceremonial picture and turned right around.  I didn’t get a hard 12:05 PM departure.

It was 12:10 PM, and I knew there would be traffic.  One wrong turn, one glitch with parking, and I would miss the shuttle, and the day would be ruined.  After I finished my H. Upmann, I lit up an LFD, and I drove as fast as was reasonable and prudent.  I was looking at a 1:52 PM arrival at the address.  That’s a soft 1:52 PM arrival.  I did not think I could make shuttle.  There was a parking lot right next to the museum that served as the shuttle stop, and I found a spot.  I was outside the museum at 1:54 PM.

The shuttle pulled up a minute later, and he apologized for running late.  If he was on-time, I would have missed it.  We left just a few minutes later.  We got to Eugene O’Neill’s Tao House a few minutes after 2 PM, and the ranger spent an hour giving us a tour of the house.  I just wanted to get my stamp, light up my cigar, and take my ceremonial picture.

The house was very nice, and we learned some interesting things that I did not know, about how he changed the theatre, that he was Charlie Chaplain’s father-in-law, and that “A Long Day’s Journey Into Night” was not published until after his death, due to its sensitive autobiographical nature.  The ranger, along with the rest of the group, was very impressed to learn that this was my 297^th NPS unit.

After the tour, I got my stamp, lit up an Oliva, and took my ceremonial picture.  We soon headed back, arriving back to our cars slightly before 4 PM.  I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so I decided I would head straight to dinner, but I wanted some chocolate.  Well, in the 100-degree heat, it had melted in the trunk.  Like yesterday, the temperature changed tens of degrees every few miles.  It was crazy and ranged from the 60s to the 100s over the span of ten miles.  I found a couple of pieces that were merely soft and ate them.

I then drove to The Old Clam House, California’s “most iconic restaurant.”  There was parking across the street, and a gas station, too.  Perfect.  They had plenty of seating when I got there, and they immediately brought me, upon request, some of their most iconic items: MIlwauke Steam Beer, clam juice, and kettle bread, which was basically a loaf of kettle-cooked sourdough bread.  It was delicious.

Then came the main course, their iconic clams cioppino.  It was easily enough to feed two.  I struggled to finish it.  It was delicious, but I just couldn’t do it.  I got through maybe 80%.  I was glad to have another meal at a state’s “most iconic restaurant,” and this was one of the better ones.  I then gassed up and, improving upon my method from St. John’s, found a way to modestly change from my casual clothes to my suit in my car.

I then headed straight to the airport.  I dropped off my car and took the monorail to the terminal.  I got my ticket and headed out the smoking area, where I sat down, lit up an Avo, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close.  I am actually going to set a new precedent by allowing myself to close out this trip outside of the terminal, rather than waiting to get to the gate.  Next stop: actually, I have no idea, but maybe Maryland in August with Raymond and Elaine.