Sober In Groups
We did our tour of Alcatraz last night, which was suitably jailish, although we would've preferred to have somewhat fewer than 200 touristas around. You don't quite get an authentic experience of a solitary confinement cell when you're locked in it with five other people.
On days that we don't have much planned, like yesterday, we spend most of our time just walking randomly about the city, which is helpful for me in terms of getting to know the place, and nice for the boys, who are eager to see the city, stagger out of as many of its pubs as possible, and engage in rousing rounds of Spot The Tranny.
Pub crawls are different experiences for me now, as the strongest kick I get from a drink is the quinine in tonic water, and, if I'm feeling especially daring, a wedge of lime. But I'm finding the dynamics of remaining sober in a bar to be so engaging that not drinking has become it's own reward. This, I think, is key to the successful continuation of same. I've discovered that I become more socially relaxed when others around me are drinking, which is exactly what I was pursuing when I was drinking in groups. Now, though, I don't wake up the next morning wondering just how much of an idiot I was the previous evening...I know exactly how much of an idiot I was. Which, so far, has been "not much of one," as I seem to function fine without being propped up by pints. I not saying that everyone who drinks in bars needs propping up; that's just how it worked for me, and I'm pleased to be able to wobble forth under my own unfermented power into the city evening.
Doug says I have the same glint in my eye that he and many of his other friends had when they decided to move here, which is a fine sign of my determination. I'm currently engaged in the initial stages of an interview process for full-time employment, which seems to be proceeding favorably, but if that doesn't work out, there are enough contracts and projects floating around that I'll still be able to move ahead with my plans. One way or the other, I'm going to live here, Bob will be a hep fat West Coast Cat, and all of my stuff will be in the same place as me. Except, perhaps, for my power tools...I'm not sure how much use I'll have for my Porter Cable reciprocating saw once I'm in an apartment again.
Today, we'll be flitting about the city with Doug in a Zipcar, and there will be more food! San Francisco has so much restaurant capacity that, if everyone in the city went to dinner at once, they'd all have a seat.
Finally: we've moved our departure from Monday morning to Tuesday morning, to avoid Labor Day traffic. It will be strange to be back on the road, but, I think, the journey will be fresh once more.
