About once a year I do a day trip to San Francisco with the wife to watch some baseball team play.
Oh yeah, the San Francisco Giants.
Could you guess that my wife is the real sports fan of the family?
Truth be known, I make the trek for just about everything else we encounter along the way.
From the Sacramento area there are a number of ways to get to the ballpark, which this week is called AT&T Park.
Wasn’t it called Pac Bell Park just the other day?
And what happened to the SBC Park name?
Why not just call it Google Park and be done with it?
The most obvious and direct route–but not necessarily the quickest–is to drive.
Of course, make sure your trunk is full of cash in large bills to pay for parking within a reasonable walking distance.
And some of that cash will go for the two, count’em two, toll crossings you will make.
As you might assume, this is NOT our choice of transportation.
The tube portion of the trip is not for the overly claustrophobic.
I was told many years ago that shortly after construction the long tube quickly sunk into the soft mud.
Also, I recall reading that the tube is designed to flex and curve like a snake, should a serious earthquake occur while you happened to be making the sub-aquatic crossing.
But nothing to be afraid of; nothing at all.
O.K. this is also not our first choice in getting over to the game.
What we do is to drive to Vallejo and catch the Bay Link ferry.
These twin-hull, 300 passenger ferries jet across the bay in about an hour, and do an amazing job of smoothing the sometimes semi-rough conditions. You can sit inside and even purchase a Bloody Mary, or stand outside and feel the saltwater spray on your cheeks, and whatever else you happen to have exposed.
The ferry drops you off at the beautifully restored ferry building, which on Saturday mornings, turns into a bustling bazaar of fresh produce, warm baked goods, tasty meal options, and specialty food items.
One that I will plug is the Red Hawk cheese from the Cowgirl Creamy folks.
Very, and I mean VERY, smelly, but oh, so good. I mean unbelievably good.
And, this being San Francisco, the people watching will not disappoint.
Yes, we did go to a ball game.
Zero to zero through eight innings.
And you wonder where the clichés came from that compare watching baseball to watching grass grow or paint dry.
Finally the Arizona Snakeskins, no wait, that is not right…the Arizona Diamondbacks snuck in a couple of runs, the Giants–not so much.
On our way out I saw a bathroom sign I truly cannot comprehend.
What in the hell is an Express Restroom?
Do you need a note from your doctor certifying that you have explosive diarrhea?
Or sign a promise to only go “Number One.”
And even then, for me, at my age, even a stand-up session often entails a longer visit.
If you have to ask, then don’t worry about it…at least not yet.
But do heed the old adage: “Never Trust A Fart.”