We walked out of our room on the third floor of a little boutique hotel in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco, intent on spending the day walking the city and eating as much as possible. The hotel, supposedly, had been featured in the movie Vertigo as the apartment belonging Kim Novak's character, although the front desk staff was hesitant to confirm this fact, despite the plaque on our door reading "Kim Novak Room".
As we trudged downstairs I started telling him a story that was on the topic of funny misunderstandings, which we had been chatting about in the hotel room as we got ready for the day.
"So I had been staying with my mom after a trip out of the country, before driving home to San Francisco with my then-boyfriend," I started. I'm a terrible storyteller, interrupting my own sentences and train of thought with little quips having very little to do with the story at hand, and going off in a different direction before returning, without warning, to the original story.
"Uh huh," he answered, his patient nature coupled with his seeming amusement to every story I tell, egging me on. He sweetly takes pleasure in my incessant ramblings it seems, much to my bafflement.
"Well on our way home, she called me and told me that I had left my 'iPad' behind, and I stifled my laughter as she agreed to mail it to me the following week. After I hung up, then-boyfriend and I had a good laugh at my mother's expense, reveling in the fact that the older generation was so out of touch with technology, and making stupid jokes about putting on some music from our 'iPad' for the long drive." My mother is pretty inept when it comes to computers and the like, in fact she doesn't even know how to text message, and I am an asshole in that I jump at any chance to tease her.
We walked out of the lobby and into the crisp and sunny San Francisco morning, and slung our arms around each other before heading towards the Embarcadero, our fast-paced walks syncing together. We're both fast walkers. I like that.
"So later that week," I continued, "I got an envelop in the mail. When I opened it, I found the cheap little eye mask I had bought for the long flight to Europe...the kind that blocks out the light so you can sleep? Well I had left that behind. An "eye pad" as my mother had put it. I checked my purse, and my iPod was nestled innocently at the bottom. I felt like such an ass."
He laughed heartily, and told me that I should blog that story. I argued that I didn't think it was that interesting, just kinda amusing, but not good enough for an entire blog entry. He disagreed. Later I had oysters for breakfast, and then we bought some stinky cheese and olive bread from the Ferry Building Farmers Market. We sat on a bench and watched people as we ate. It was one of the loveliest days in recent memory.