It took us almost a half hour to find the right parking building near the ferry terminal in Oakland. Then, we had to ask three different people before we figured out how to get on the right streetcar from the Ferry Building in S.F. to AT&T Park.
We also lost our parking validation, but then finally found it again. We (I) had trouble with the automated ticket dispenser at AT&T Park Will Call. And on the way home we couldn’t decide the best driving route from Jack London Square to the 580 freeway.
Where were you, Gayle, when we needed you?
In the previous two posts I’ve described in general why we got together in the Bay Area. In this one I’ll add a little meat to the bones.
Dwight, Ralph and Joe picked me up at the Oakland airport from which we headed directly for the Oakland ferry terminal in Jack London Square. As an aside, Gertrude Stein would be happy to know that Oakland, finally, may be creating a “there” there, based on the incredible construction activity we saw going on.
After the aforementioned parking boggle, we shot across the Bay in the high-speed catamaran ferry boat and arrived at the Ferry Building in S.F. in only 15 minutes. After standing on the pier looking rather like pathetic old men, someone spotted a restaurant (a major “port in a storm” for this group) where we decided to have a late lunch.
The photo is of the four of us at Sinbad’s, a popular dockside Embarcadero eatery. Left to right are Ralph Higgins, Joe Medal, Dwight Klassen and myself.
We spent at least an hour shooting the breeze in the picturesque setting and got caught up on what’s been going on with all of our families. For a while, Joe talked seemingly incessantly, relating story after story, and we soaked it in because we’ve seen him the least in the past few years.
After “chowing down” (Joe’s terminology), we then impersonated confused, slow-walking old duffers as we plodded "a quarter of a mile" (had to be at least a half mile) to the Embarcadero streetcar stop where we began the mile-and-a-half trolley ride to the Park.
In one way, it was great to be a senior. The ferry ride cost each of us only $3 each way (instead of $7), and the streetcar ride cost only 50 cents (instead of a buck and a half regular fare). The streetcar ticket noted that only seniors or handicapped get the cheap fare. We probably qualified as both.
Plus, the ferry ticket also included free parking in Oakland for the day while using the ferry. If we had driven to S.F it would have cost $10 in gas plus $30 parking near the Park. So we saved at least $40 with the boat.
Originally, I thought the reason for using the ferry was the Bay Bridge freeway intersection crash and burn about a month ago that has created driving havoc at the Oakland end. However, I later figured out that Dwight, who was driving, made the decision to take the boat. We don’t call him “Save-A-Buck” for nothing!
As I mentioned in the last post, the Giants ballgame in the evening was our highlight and was as good a game as you can see if you’re a Giants fan. And of course, as is Baggar custom, after we got back to Dwight’s place in Discovery Bay long after midnight, we had to sit around, chew and digest the day, and do something we hadn’t done for at least an hour – eat some more.
And, surprisingly, no shenanigans occurred on the outing. Truth is, we had enough trouble just getting ourselves from place to place; there was little chance of causing anything more.
2 comments:
It was a great day at the ball park with buddies of roughly a half century, plus or minus a few years. That's scary.
A few observations: I noticed that we don't move with the speed and agility that I remember from our college days. But we can drink as much beer.
Looking out on the field I could see guys in uniforms trying to hit a ball with a stick, but to listen to the conversation from Koskela, Klassen and Medal, I had to conclude that the science of baseball exceeds the Theory of Relativity in its complexity and pertinence to ultimate reality and the meaning of life.
I think I actually played the game of baseball early in my life, but I now realize that I don't know jack about the game anymore. Who in the hell is Cookie Rojas?
Around the edges of our energetic conversation, there were brief glimmers of profound subjects such as deism, agnosticism, Christianity, and other topics that once kept us up until 3 AM in heated debates during our college years. But such inconsequencial topics were quickly extinguished by "Who's on second?" "No. Who's on first. What's on second." And since I'm a moron when it comes to stats, player's history and all that jazz, I just sat back and learned from the pros.
Seriously, it's amazing how much my three buddies know about the game.
The beauty of having good friends for a lifetime is the history one can draw on and the stories that tend to grow over the years.
Personally, I've tried to limit my story telling, because my friends have heard them so many times they quickly hold up fingers indicating the number of times they've heard a particular story. Actually, that's more merciful than letting me tell the entire story, then, as I wait for a laugh, being informed that the event described didn't even happen to me, but to one of them. That's brutal.
In any event, I'm ready for our next adventure, whether it's a cruise or a ball game. It doesn't matter. Hanging out with good friends is what makes it great.
Ralph
Thanks, Baggar, for a great commentary on our enjoyable day in the City. It's really refreshing to have some good writing finally materialize on my blog. Take care.
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