Sneaking in Balboa on a Friday Night . . .
Ok, I tried to sneak in but that damn maitre'd said I have to make a reservation. So I called the restaurant from the payphone outside and said I wanted a reservation for five minutes from that point under the name "Iverson", and went right up to the maitre'd. He had no choice but to let me in! Now I'm sitting at a table by the window, typing a little entry here. Now, for the second part of my ingenious plan: getting close enough to the ladies without being seen . . . . Wish me luck!