Welcome to

A Snowsuit Story

Home / Work Trip / West Coast Double Date

West Coast Double Date

Keegan and Derek

Napa

By way of San Fran

We found ourselves plopped, quite frankly, plopped, into a few different worlds at once. In any scenario this may have been interesting, but it was particularly so after a long day’s travel. The unfamiliar has the ability to morph into something relatively mystic when paired with tiredness and a slight touch of dehydration.

In unfamiliar territory we parked the rental car and made our way up the street. Our date with Miss Frisco seemed underway. Derek exchanged a few text messages with our soon to be host for the evening as we wobbled our way through an area of downtown San Francisco. This was our first on foot trek through the new city. She chose to reveal herself in odd ways. We worked our way through a group of unsightly gentlemen playing loud music and filling the air with a sweet illicit perfume of smoke. Our demeanor, attire and apparent misdirection probably couldn’t have been more apparent. This trip had its beginnings in a business trip for a Phillips Pet food and supply trade show. Yet, as eager wanderers do, Derek and I had decided to make the trip early in order to see a bit more of the world. An evening in an Air BnB was to be our safe haven, if we could ever find it.

After much back and forth, Miss Frisco finally revealed herself in the form of our host outside her building. Our accommodations for the evening included a single mattress, behind a big piece of cardboard, in the living room. We couldn’t tell who was cheaper, us or the cardboard wall. Odd, easy and onward went the evening.

The two girls who would host us were foreign and friendly. One was from France, living in San Francisco in a chapter of growth and exploration which I wouldn’t be surprised to find out has defined her youth. The other a French-Canadian working through dental school, we would find her asleep on the couch complete with a book on her lap when we returned later that night, thus fulfilling the imagined life of a grad student on a Saturday night. Transitory as a train station went our evening. We were 4 travelers in a single apartment, each with a train to catch and all with different schedules for leaving.

As it was Super Bowl 50 the following day, it was only fitting that my travel companion and I wrestle the night away from itself and fashion it into an image for our memory. So we greeted her, Miss Frisco, down by Fisherman’s Wharf as she showed us her how well dressed she was for the occasion and, as gentlemen tend to do, we walked her arm in arm and as we both became comfortable, we both began to dress down.

“You from here” she said in a voice and figure that resembled a well-meaning, 30 something bar tender, but we knew it was her.

“No, New York, you?” we replied.

“Oh, I’m not either, I’m from a small town though, an hour from here, I’ve lived here several years though.”

“We’re from a small town too, how big?”

“About 10,000,” she replied with eyes that said New York’s not a small town.

“Oh yeah, us too, about 8,000” we responded.

She nodded in approval.

Our eyes locked in understanding. The soul is so much smaller than the body, and holds so much more. Miss Frisco was no different.

We followed Miss Frisco through the streets as she showed us where the strip clubs shone, where the fancy ate and where weary, drunk travelers could get a burger.

For a time, we left her for a story from a fellow New Yorker from behind the bar, as she bought us a beer. But miss Frisco drank it with us anyway, and spoke in a long island accent in between sips.

Old Charlie picked us up on the corner of Grant and Green. It was his 700th ride with Lyft and his last of the evening. He had to drive back out to the suburbs to sleep for the night after all. 701 could wait, as the first step after most milestones tend to do.

True to character of all great nights, it went on along a bit wilder and seemed not too distracted by our absence, although it said goodnight in its own manner, by tucking in Charlie, Derek and I together. She said goodnight with the air of a friend who wanted you to stay, but knew you had good reason to leave early.

We slept soundly. The food and booze provided their usual sleep aide.

 

Napa

After sleeping with San Fran

We awoke the next morning with a good morning and a fart. An interesting early morning awakening from our host. Comfortable with us? Accidental? Foreign? Derek and I certainly didn’t know. Quirky, and memorable was that Sunday morning fart. I suppose it’s all a fart can hope to achieve in its lifetime. We were on our way out of the apartment hastily, but still with pleasant goodbyes and thank yous.

The streets invited our car to wander and so we did. The grid led us through steep and shallow. Corner marts and coffee shops said hello. Dirty Heads narrated our ride through the streets and light traffic allowed for momentary lingering in areas where the views aroused our delight.

After an hour, Napa invited us onward and so we went. Like a good second date in as many days, she lured us out of our infatuation with Miss Frisco. While our former companion offered herself in a form of shared indulgence, Napa was tricky. Like a charmer does, she was coy with her passing hills. The neighborhoods gave way to prettier hills, which opened to areas of natural beauty which were enhanced by the right touch of manicure. The humanity written on her face added to her appeal. The natural structure made sure her beauty would resonate.

We arrived at the Meritage Resort, where Napa seemed to exist on display. It was either totally her or not her at all. I was never quite sure which. In either circumstance she was equally as beautiful as she’d been described and perhaps, equally inaccessible. The landscape too large to grasp at once, the soul perhaps too dressed up.

She probably required more than I wanted to give and offered less than I cared to know. But she was beautiful and abundant, nonetheless. Her wine was as toxic as they said it would be and more tempting that I knew it could be. Between work and distraction, I may not have known her beyond her look. Although, it’s just as well, my girl was in Rochester anyway.

>> <<