In my last epistle I mentioned that we would all be going for a massage later that evening. In order to get there, we got on one bus, traveled through the city, got off I don’t know where, and caught another bus to take us to where we were going. I thought the fares were a dollar…they were the last time I was here…I thought. Matt said they were $1.50 so that’s what I took and I put six quarters in the slot. After we had ridden for a while, Matt said, I just remembered the fares went to $2.00 in July. Oops!! If I get sent to San Quentin, be sure to visit me sometime. I suppose when you live here, you get used to figuring out which bus to catch and when you need to make transfers. At any rate, I was with Matt and I just followed him. As it turned out, we went one stop too far and had to walk back six blocks or so to the massage parlor. With one bad knee, we didn’t run, but made it almost on time.

The girl that had me (poor choice of words, I know) took me back to a cubicle and told me to undress and lie down. With a hole where my head should be I was dumb enough to ask “Face down?” She said yes and left the room. There were blankets and a pillow on the foot end and, with where my head needed to go, my feet would either be on top of or underneath the pile. With no clothing on except my tighty whities…they’re actually black…I chose underneath. There were two towels and I got in between them. Apparently I was supposed to get under both, ‘cuz the smaller one on top barely covered my “better left unseen” areas.

I got my face situated in the face hole so I could breathe just as the girl came back in. She spoke a little English, but when she said something, I couldn’t understand her. I said I was hard of hearing (actually I am a little) and would she please repeat. She said “Hard or soft?” I immediately panicked thinking it may really be one of those happy ending massage parlors. Luckily it dawned on me that she meant firm pressure or light pressure. I answered medium hard which, as I think back, could have been the correct answer whether it was or wasn’t “one of those places”.

The cubicles were small, and the walls didn’t go up to the ceiling, so you could hear everyting that was going on in the other rooms. The girl was not very big, so she needed to get all her weight into giving someone like me a massage. As she was pushing back and forth, I seemed to slide on the table a little. The tables were covered with leather (probably not real leather), and you probably already know that a body sliding across leather often makes a sound like (how can I be discreet?) flatulence. I knew she knew what it really was, but everyone else in the building probably thought “Poor Mary…she got another gassy one”. I expected to hear “Dad! Knock it off! You’re embarrassing me”. I guess we’ll know if we are refused another appointment. Hopefully Matt and Heather can go back. If not, sorry! Actually she gave me an excellent massage and loosened up some of the travel kinks. I guess I won’t dump the Jeep after all.

Afterwards we went to a Japanese restaurant. There they brought a plate of vegetables, a plate of beef and a bowl of hot broth. The hot broth went in the middle of the table and the heat went on. When it came to boiling, we were to drop the vegetables in followed by the meat. It was slightly more complicated than that, but the point is that it was all done with chopsticks. With all my down time this past summer, I had vowed to learn how to eat with chopsticks. Well, my vow went by the wayside and I didn’t know anything about how to hold them. Matt and Heather showed me how, and I flubbed my way through the meal.

Actually, Heather helped me fish vegetables and meat from the boiling broth, and it was up to me to pick them up from my bowl, dip them in soy or peanut sauce, and get them to my mouth. It worked, and I didn’t starve, but I’m guessing most of the people in the restaurant just looked at me, rolled their eyes, and got a chuckle out of it. My area of the table was littered with bits of food and drops of sauce. It looked like some students just had a food fight in the cafeteria. I had Sake for the first time ever. I guess I’m enough of a hick to like wine or beer better, but it was good just the same.

Fast forward to today. I had an appointment at 8 AM at the UCSF Sports Medicine Clinic at Mission Bay. For those of you who have been here, It’s just South of the AT&T Ballpark. For those of you who haven’t, it’s way across town from where I am now. Matt took me down and told me how to get back. After my appointment, I walked East toward the bay, just like he said. I found the Muni platform and almost walked onto it when I realized that there is an outbound and inbound platform. I was headed for the outbound platform and would have been going down toward the airport. I walked down a little farther and saw a sign that said inbound.

Heather had given me a TransLink card that you prepay. It’s sort of like an I-Pass transponder that goes in your car so you don’t have to stop at all the toll booths in Chicago. I got on the next inbound train, showed the driver my card, and he pointed to his window, or so I thought. Matt told me to hold the chip next to the scanner and it would record the fee. I was searching all over the window by the driver and holding the card to everything that stuck out. He kept shaking his head and I finally realized it was on my left, not on my right by the driver. If I was overly sensitive, I would have thought that everyone was watching me and laughing inside. I guess I’ve been around the city enough to know that they were probably thinking either, “Ah, another tourist”, or “This is a great song on my Ipod. I wonder what I’ll have for lunch today”. Either way, I’m sure they couldn’t care less about my debacle.

Poker tonight. Jean may have to send me money to get home!

Just (Figuring Out How To Embarass Matt And Heather Next) Jack