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A couple of years ago, I was out drinking. There was an old drunk that was in the bar. He told wild stories. Delusions of grandeur. Grandpa was falling off the barstool. He had money, falling out of his pockets. Literally. Every time he reached for a packet of tissue. Or breath mints. Crumpled up bills were falling to the floor. He fell on the floor. I helped him back up. There were wadded up bills all over the floor.
This was at a little bistro across from the most expensive gas in The Bay Area.
One night, the restaurant got tired of the old drunk. Dude was about 70, and he drank like a teenager. Loud. Obnoxious. And a groper. He would wrap his arms around you, and hold on. I thought it was because he was drunk, old, had no balance, and falling down. Apparently, he was hugging and squeezing *****. The owner called the cops, and he was taken to jail.
Yep! You never know who will sit next to you at the diner or bar. I had a great uncle who was in the middle of wheat harvest in Oregon and blew the transmission in one of his trucks and went to get a loan to get it fixed ASAP. The loan officer pissed him off, so he bought the bank just to fire him.
Also know a little old lady who wanted to write a check for a new car. When they called her bank, the Manager asked if she was going to buy a car or the dealership, both were covered.
Growing up, when we left Chinatown for a meal, it was either at Trader Vic's or Original Joe's.
Original Joe's was on Taylor, half a block from Turk & Taylor. Right on that corner, 1 block from the famous Warfield Theater, was a little corner bar.
This was probably the worst corner, in the worst part of town. People passed out on the sidewalk in pools of urine. Open air drug deals. Prostitution at every level, and to every flavor of the rainbow. About the worst of Life in the Inner City.
I can't now, or ever, explain why I have met touring musicians, film actors, "celebrity" politicians, "celebrity" business people, "celebrity" chefs, and so on - either in the restaurant or at the corner bar. Apparently, everyone went there to eat at the restaurant, and drink at that corner bar. The bar wound up on Esquire Magazine's list of best bars in The USA.
Fire season?! I would think it would be too cold for a fire. Then again, anyone camping would want a fire, and maybe it got out of hand, or they did not extinguish it 100%. IDK, never been a firefighter, nor did I play one on TV.
Most fires are started by a human condition. Campfire embers. Down power lines. Muffler backfire. Controlled burn going out of control. Arson. Conditions of poor forest management contribute. Very rare to have spontaneous combustion.
I could be wrong. A raccoon could fall asleep with a lit cigarette. On a mattress made in China, without fire retardant.
It's hot here in SF. I hope I don't spontaneously combust.
I'm sitting around waiting for the phone to ring. The bicycle dealer is supposed to have my new Specialized electric assist mountain bike ready today. #cheatercheaterpumpkineater
Rezvani's Latest Post-Apocalyptic Monster Is a Ford F-150 Raptor Underneath
Slideshow: Called the Fortress, the 850-horsepower pickup combines Raptor underpinnings with military-inspired features, survival equipment, and a starting price of $285,000.
