I left on the Bart to San Francisco...

I know that I've gone on and on about the great benefits of working for an airline before here, but I'm still in the flying-for-free-is-a-novelty stage right now. Which means I still think it's really cool that John and I can decide last minute to fly somewhere, and not only do I not pay extra for it, but I still pay nothing for it! So the other day when, upon trying to decide what to do with my three days off that were quickly approaching, John suggested we head up to San Francisco for pride and to visit our friend Moby, I was all about it!

Of course, like most things that one is really looking forward to doing, the trip up there wasn't without complication. We arrived at the airport way early (5:30) for our way early flight (6:40) and found out that the 2nd portion of the trip (from Las Vegas to Oakland) was pretty full.

So I singed up for flying 4th, which means that I basically act as one of the flight crew, sitting in the jump seat, helping pass out peanuts, and maybe even making snarky announcements over the PA. This meant that if the flight were to fill up, I would free up one seat for John. It also meant that I had to pre-board so I could meet the flight crew that I might be working with. Which also meant that I found out before anyone else would that that particular plane had a mechanical issue that would delay it quite a while.

So, in another shining example of how great my job can be, I hopped off the plane, walked up to the customer service desk, and managed to charm the girl there into getting us onto the next flight into LA. The catch was that we got into LA about 7 minutes before the flight to Oakland was due to depart. I was able to convince the gate agent to let us pre-board and luckily enough, that flight was only 2 gates away, so we booked it right out of our plane and onto the other one just in time.

Once we finally got to Oakland, we had to catch the AirBart shuttle that goes from the terminal to the Bart station by the Coliseum. Three dollars later, we were packed into the rear doorway of the bus stuck between a couple with a sick puppy who smelled as though he'd been eating out of Taco Bell dumpsters and two extremely loud and obnoxious New Jersey-ites who complained about everything from the number of people that they let onto the bus to how fast the driver was going to how long it was taking to get there.

Once at the station, we hopped the wrong train...hopped back off...hopped on the right one, and headed toward downtown. We needed to get off at the stop near where the trolley cars depart thinking that we'd hop one to get to our hotel in Nob Hill. I knew that it was Pride weekend, and that there was going to be a parade on Market, but it was scheduled to start a good hour before we got there. And, were said parade to have been in Tucson, it would have been over 45 minutes ago. We emerged from the station to the all chaos and frivolity inherent to a big-city pride parade.

The first thing we saw was a group of church crazies screaming about hell, repentance, and condemnation over a PA to a group of rather exuberant homosexuals that had gathered around them and were chanting things back while jumping about like they were at a circuit party. All of which was only angering the gentleman on the PA even more, making him re-double his efforts...which only made the gays that much more excited. You can't buy that kind of entertainment.

We watched the parade for a while, and then grabbed a bite to eat at this Korean BBQ place that somehow managed to overcharge my card by the simple mis-placement of a decimal point...making my food $181.60 instead of $18.16. I'm sure somewhere one of my former math teachers is smiling, knowing that I finally understand the power of that little decimal point and its position in a number.

All this time I'd been texting Moby, trying to figure out where and when we'd end up meeting him. He had told me that he was sort of headed our way, even though I hadn't even told him exactly where we were. After eating, and resisting the temptation to throttle the girl behind the counter, we wandered back outside. I told John I was going to call Moby so that we could better figure out our meeting place. As the phone was ringing, I looked around the pandemonium surrounding us and saw...who else?...a grinning Moby standing right on the other side of a rail that created an entry way into the restaurant we'd been eating in. I still don't know how he found us so easily, but I was certainly glad!

That's Moby...and no, that's NOT a halo behind him.

After hugs and kisses, he helped us find our way to our hotel so that we could ditch the bags we'd been dragging through the crowded streets...tripping more than a few bitter queens along the way. Check in time at the hotel wasn't until 3, and it was barely 11am, so we checked our bags and wandered back out to the street festivities.

All of the non-parade activities ended near the Civic Center (no, not a place they sell Hondas) where the expected assortment of booths and port-a-potties lined the streets. Moby showed us around some of the more interesting spots, and we met a few interesting people including Andy and Bill (the men to whom so many BigMuscle members owe heaps of thanks for making it way easier for them to get laid). They were both really nice and great guys in person.

Does this group hug make me look gay?

We also met Matt, Moby's adorable friend from Oklahoma who wound up hanging out with us. Between Moby (southern) John (also southern) and Matt (you guessed it, southern) I was the odd man out. I heard more "y'all"s, "might oughta"s and "usta could"s than a trip to Dollywood would yield. It certainly made the day more fun for me!

Come 3 o'clock, we checked into the hotel and got showered up. We then headed over to the Castro to visit some more with Moby and Matt, and had some great sushi...and cookies. Later we headed back to our hotel via the Muni train and then bus (neither of which we wound up having to pay for for some odd reason). We had reserved a room with two double beds, but discovered earlier in the day that they forgot the 2 part. I slept pretty well despite doing so on the floor.

Apparently, sushi makes everyone giddy.

The next day we met up with Moby and hung out for a bit...had lunch with Matt, Moby and a friend of John's from BMB and his two friends. Matt was nice enough to volunteer to drive us around, as his car had just gotten out of the shop, so John and I and M & M headed to the Haight Ashbury district at my request. You see, I was born there (well, I was born in a hospital, but my folks lived there when I was born) and had yet to visit despite having taken several trips to SF before. It was a fun neighborhood...the four of us hung out in a thrift store there for nearly an hour making fun of clothes, and making each other try on ridiculous articles. Afterward it was on to Ben & Jerry's for some creamy goodness!

Despite appearances, we weren't in a bath-house.

We later made our way back to the Castro for dinner, and then went back to Moby's to watch "Serial Mom". That night Moby went above and beyond his normally sweet and considerate nature and let John and I crash in his bed while he slept on the couch. We promised to keep the stains to a minimum, and slept pretty well.

I'm not sure if it was Matt or John that was doing the pontificating in this picture, but someone's gonna break an ankle stepping off that soap-box.

The next day the three of us headed out to the Oakland airport together, (Moby was going home to east Texas via Houston, and we were headed home). We got to visit a bit more, and subject Moby to some of our music tastes on the train...then we said bye at the airport, and headed home.