Woke up in my San Francisco hotel room this morning to learn that I hadn't packed any clean underwear. How did that happen? (More evidence of early Alzheimers?)
This afternoon I walked over to the lovely Nordstrom's on Market Street to buy what I had forgotten to pack. And as I was crossing Market Street what had been a rainstorm turned into a hailstorm. Little bb sized hailstones were bouncing as they hit the street pavement. Crunch crunch crunch I carefully walked across the street.
A pair of boxers later and the storm was over.
Tonight I went to the Roxie Theater in the Mission District of San Francisco to see a showing of the Oscar-nominated Documentary feature "Street Fight." It's about the rough politics surrounding the 2002 race for Mayor in Newark, New Jersey.
One term Councilmember Corey Booker went up against four term incumbent Mayor Sharpe James. This is one of the most compelling political films I've seen in a long time. The filmmaker really captured the intensity of both campaigns. He had extraordinary access to Booker and lots of hands on his camera when he tried to film Mayor James. The best part was Mayor James' press secretary talking about how tough it was to be the press secretary for Mayor James. You would think he would know, as a professional -- the camera is always on!
After the movie I asked the box office manager to recommend a local Mexican restaurant -- and she made an excellent suggestion, sending me to Puerto Alegre on Valencia Street. The pitcher of margaritas above wasn't for me, but I got a kick out of watching the bartender mix them right in front of where I was sitting at the counter.
I sampled a more appropriately sized one. OK, two.
No comments:
Post a Comment