Luggage Carts, Diners, Tea and Fishes

Sounding ever so much like "Are we there yet?" HRH kept asking about Golden Gate Park. Can we see it from the bridge? Is the Presidio in the park? How big is the park?

Five years ago, HRH and I were only in California for five days when we went out there to move CaDiva to Iowa. Somehow, in the flash sightseeing and dash packing, we missed showing her Golden Gate Park. So we definitely wanted to get there this time.

Not only is it a must see, the Japanese Tea Garden, the Aquarium, heck CaDiva was married in the rose garden back in '70. I didn't even get into Junior High until '71. But that is neither here nor there. Well it is more here than there, what with her being so much older than I am. One day I'll explain exactly how much older she is than I am. But it is a lot.

We planned the trip for Monday since much of the park is closed to motorized traffic on Sunday and we figured it would be less busy on a work day.

We grabbed a little breakfast at the hotel and packed up the luggage and checked out of the Embassy Suites. Now, you remember I told you we should have learned not to let HRH handle the loaded luggage cart? Well, while I was checking out (for the price of one meal...the rooms were Hilton Honors - both nights.) HRH pushed the luggage cart out the front door. The parking lot sloped from the covered entry way down towards the walking path along the bay. It was just too much of a temptation I suppose.

I didn't see the decision or the hop up onto the cart. I came out of the lobby just in time to see the error of her logic occur to HRH. As the luggage cart filled with all the things three women need to travel for nine days careened towards the Toyota parked next to our rented van, HRH decided the best course of action was to jump off the cart, plant her feet, and cop a stance akin to a Mets catcher over the home plate in post season...and just about as effectively.

It all took on a sort of surreal feeling as the flip-flops HRH wore slipped out from under her feet and the loaded cart keeled over like an Irwin Allen Luxury Liner. By the time the dust settled she lost the polish off one toe and the skin off the other knee but the Toyota was saved.


Given her trauma, we decided to let her pick the breakfast place. She had a plan, which is unique in the first place. But, we all saw that shiny aluminum old-school Fog City Diner when we were leaving Pier 39. And the idea of a diner breakfast before we started our tour of the park just sounded too good to pass up. We should have passed it up.

First it cost like 25 cents for seven minutes to park there and the diner didn't even open until 11:30 AM. Something we didn't realize until we had already plugged the meter with most of our change.

So we decided to walk down the Embarcadero to look for some place else to eat. We walked about a half a mile and found nothing that was open or looked likely but what we did find was one of those fancy new self-cleaning toilets. I was so excited. Not girl trip you can pee when you want to type of excited, but way up there. Unfortunately, it was out of order.

The three of us grabbed a sit down place on a bench and considered our options. After much debate, well not that much, it was CaDiva who actually figured out by the time we got back to the car the diner would be open and so that sort of resolved the whole issue. And it probably wasn't a very good idea to leave CaDiva sitting on the bench surrounded by homeless people we hoped were talking into blue-tooth devises. But HRH did get to see a skateboarder trip a roller-skater, so she felt a little better about her wounds.

There was another short layover in a lovely park beside the diner, waiting the last few minutes for the restaurant to open. Frankly I thought my companions could have been kinder when the cool breezes blowing through the willow branches lead me to sing Patsy Cline's "I Go Out Walking". They are so picky about pitch and melody and getting lyrics EXACTLY right...go figure.

Finally we sat down to breakfast. Only this isn't a diner in the true sense of the word. This was more like what a yuppie raised X-genner would think you should put in a diner as long as it is in California. On top of that the absolutely adorable server had to break the news to us that the menu wasn't exactly up to date.

He suggested we just order and see if they had what we wanted. Well CaDiva was a winner right out of the gate. She settled for crab cakes, if they put the chili sauce on the side, since she doesn't eat anything the least bit spicy. (she is older than me, remember). Next HRH placed her order and I asked for a Fog City Diner Burger (figuring if it had the diners name it they had to have it.) Well they did. But he came back to HRH and broke the news that she didn't win the lottery. She picked a second meal and we waited.

My burger came and it was good, really very good. But CaDiva's crab cakes came with the chili sauce on them, and the corn bread she was talked into ordering to pad her small plate, turned out to be made with jalapeños. Well at least HRH liked the corn bread.

The bill came and our light little meal came to over $60 dollars even after they corrected it for double charging CaDiva for the crab cakes and not taking off the corn bread. I would not recommend this place but we wanted to bring the server with us to round out our little band. He fit right in.

Finally we were off to the Park. But it is late now and CaDiva still has to proof this, so I'll leave that for tomorrow.