Tuly
I left home for the BART station at 8:20pm to see the fireworks in San Francisco. As I start this post, it’s 11:20pm, and I only just got back. So that’s 3 hours of time to see a 20-minute show. Still, I think it was worth it.
On my way to the station, I texted my friend-with-whom-I’m-exploring-the-possiblilty-of-a-serious-romantic-relationship (friend, for short) and proposed two alternatives for our evening “phone-date”: a) split it into two shorter conversations, one on my way to the station (and for a while on the train) and another in SF, or b) to do things the usual way and have it all in one go. We agreed to do it all in one go, so I gave Kurt a quick call to say hi, since we haven’t been speaking much lately, on account of my being otherwise occupied with my friend.
On the train ride itself, I spent my time reading Wedge’s Gamble and listening to Asian Kung-Fu Generation. I made it as far as Kirtan’s meeting with Iceheart, where she reveals her elaborate scheme for ruining the rebellion financially instead of militarily, by having them spend inordinate amounts of money on bacta to cure their people of a disease she has one of her mad scientists working on. Muahaha! Also, the two guys across from me had already gotten started with their patriotic duties prior to going to see the fireworks, because they were clearly inebriated.
I arrived at the Embarcadero station at 9:25pm. The place was packed (not like in Tokyo, but still pretty good). I emerged onto the street to the sight and sounds of random guys in Uncle Sam top hats with stars and stripes selling flags: $5/each, “hot off the presses”. One of them started singing “America, America, America, America” in what seemed like the beginning of a real song, but then he didn’t know how to follow up on that and ended lamely after the fourth “America”.
I walked up the street, following the general movement of the crowd, trusting their collective judgement to lead me to a good spot. Just then, I saw the fireworks getting started, and quickly texted my friend to let her know. Of course, because I consistently keep her up late (yesterday being a particularly bad example), my poor friend was too tired to talk. She asked me to pray for both of us and to tell her about the show tomorrow, for which this post will prove invaluable.
With thoughts of her on my mind, I took in the show. There were plenty of red, white, and blue fireworks, of course, as well as numerous combinations thereof. Another popular color was green. I saw yellow and purple a few times too. My favorites were a) one that kind of snaked its way up, leaving a wavy tail behind it, and b) one that featured very small, very bright pinpricks of light, which made me think of that sparkly stuff kids use in art projects, which in Spanish I would call escarcha, and which after some Googling I’m reminded is called glitter in English.
Like I said before, the show was over within 20 minutes (25 tops), and it certainly ended quite spectacularly, with a display that drew applause and cheers from the crowd, as well as much honking of horns from the cars. I remember that the strong, smoky smell of the fireworks finally reached me at that point. Or maybe I only just then became aware of it. The smell reminded me vividly of playing with fireworks with my Dad as a kid, and in particular that one year where one of the rockets came straight back at us.
On my way back to the train station, I met more of the flag sellers, and took a picture of them. One guy asked if this was for the paper, which I found a hilarious question considering the non-SLRness of my camera. I also met an old man asking for money, and gave him a few bucks. He didn’t specify what he needed it for, and I didn’t ask. He didn’t appear to be intoxicated like my good friend the hobo from a few weeks back, which I take as a good sign.
I waited maybe 8 minutes at the train station before the right train showed up. There were lots of people with kids, and especially a lot of Indian people for some reason. Anyway, most children are cute, so that was fun. There was also a crazy white-haired Chinese guy with a sign that explained clearly the nefarious relationship between Bush and the Dalai Lama, and how both of them secretly and no-so-secretly promoted war in the world. I’m glad he was there to illuminate me on that point, because otherwise I would never have “woken up”. To think my housemate never told me about that! Someone dropped the ball.
While waiting at the station and on the train ride back home, I kept the book in my backpack, and instead prayed and sat in thought. What I thought and what I prayed about will remain between God, me, and my friend. I will say that I put on the soundtrack from The Incredibles.
I considered getting a cab from the BART station, because of how late it was, but instead I called Kurt and walked home. We discussed a Nutrigrain commercial I saw back at VFS, which I was reminded of today, and which I sent him the link to. Somehow, I remembered it being much less disturbing than it actually is. Also, I have hopefully convinced him to try making melon pan at home, and by the next time I go visit he’ll have perfected it. So, fingers crossed…
OK. That’s it. I’m done and I need sleep!