Joy of Travel, Part 2

An automated voice has assured me that my luggage is in flight from Chicago as I type. Forgive me if I don't hold my breath until it arrives.

Walking behind two gentlemen today, I became convinced that even the straight guys in San Francisco are gay. One of the "guys" was talking to the other one about his girlfriend Virginia, and he used these words: I want an honest, eyes-wide-open relationship. The other "guy" listened intently and made encouraging sounds for his friend to continue. On the Gay Scale, that conversation rates only slightly below taking a double load on the face.

Meanwhile, I'm tooling around town in an electric blue P/T Cruiser. I asked for a "mid-size" car, expecting something bland like a Ford Taurus. Instead, I have a beefcake magnet with a ridiculously phallic gear shift and a preset for Alice Radio.

Yeah, well, I'm going to an A's game tomorrow. And one way or another, I'll be wearing fresh underwear. Life could be a lot worse.