A day at the ballgame

July 3. . .day before 4th of July. . .Cubs are in town playing the Giants. So, with wife, 2 sisters and Vansmack in tow, we decide to hit up two of the four games the Cubs are in town. July 3 is the 4th and final game of the series. On StubHub I buy 5 bleacher tickets, not knowing that the seats aren't exactly together. Oh well, there are two seats splitting us, we'll just ask the people to scoot down two seats and no big deal.

I meet Vansmack a few hours before the game, first pitch at 4:05, at Gordon Biersch for some lunch and a few beers while we wait for the suckers to get off of work and meet us at the stadium. Have a cheeseburger and manage to put down two beers before it's time to head for the stadium and meet up with the girls, who finally show up just before 4. Walk into the stadium and head for our seats in the bleacher section.

We find our row and, sure enough, there are two people sitting in the two seats separating the five of us. We file down and ask the guy would you mind scooting down two seats so the five us can sit together? He looks at us and says, "These are my seats!" I should note that the bleachers are just long metal benches with numbers on them referring to seat numbers, so, we aren't talking about fold down seats requiring one to get up and move, we are asking if he will slide down two seats. I look at Vansmack, then ask him again, "Excuse me, there's five us and we'd like to sit together, we'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mind moving down two seats." Once again, "These are my seats." So, Vansmack and I decide we'll take the two seats and let the girls take the three, whereupon we spend the good majority of the next 3 innings having a running conversation across the two people. At various times two people go up for food and/or beer (mostly beer), and then hand the beer across to the other side. Each time, the guy just picks up his radio and turns up the volume as he brings it closer to his head. Each time we speak louder to each other.

In the meantime, Vansmack and I try to convince the second person if there's anything we can do to make this easier on everyone, and she says no, he's just obstinate like that since these are his season ticket seats. But, she's a good sport and Vansmack and I end up talking to her about soccer (Spain fan) and Wimbledon (Nadal fan), and how she's from Chile and supports Spain in nearly everything.

About the 5th inning, Vansmack and I run to get some beer and we come back and the guy is gone, but his friend is still there. Even though those are "his seats" he apparently can't sit down for very long, so he walks around, and doesn't return until the 7th inning, by which time we've come back with our final beers for the day.

Now, normally one encounters only one incident like that a day, if that much. However, this being a baseball game, the day before Fourth of July, resulting in people getting out of work early, not having to work the next day, and sitting in the bleachers, something extra special happened shortly after we got back from our final round of beers- a girl fight.

Ok, not really a fight, so to speak, but rather, a bunch of girls in Giants gear sitting down the row from my wife and her two sisters started getting in a yelling match about the Giants and the Cubs. I don't know what started the yelling, but all I know is that a series of curse words starting flowing toward us, by us I mean my wife and her sisters, from these girls, spewing all sorts of profanities and vulgarities about Cubs sucking and kicking asses. . .all of this with a variety of kids sitting in and around us. In an effort to defuse the situation, Vansmack started up with a "Take Your Tops Off" chant which was soon joined in by several guys in the area (including one who pointed which girls he wanted to see with their tops off- one of which did not make the cut), at least one female doing it out of jest, and a mom with a 2 year old sitting next to me (she denied it, but I know what I heard). After a few minutes of them standing on the bleachers, pointing and yelling at my wife and her sisters, a loud cry of "Take Your Tops Off" and another mom asking Vansmack to think of the children, the ushers finally came over and. . .escorted the Giants girls away.

Frankly, I don't know what started it all, or how it escalated into a yelling match (more active participants have been slow in getting me their take). What I do know is that 3 or 4 drunk, female Giants fans got escorted out while 3 Cubs fans, who, I guess, were not as vocal, got to stay. Kudos to Giants security. Course, having grown up here in the Bay Area and having attended a number of Giants/Dodgers game and having sat in the bleachers in Candlestick, this was all pretty tame- there was one game I went to when I was like 10, where someone had a Dodgers pennant and walked down every aisle asking people to spit on it, and then later in the game tried to light another Dodgers pennant on fire, and finally, dumping several beers on a Dodgers fan who dared venture into the bleachers. It was also a night game; a cold, blustery, foggy night game at Candlestick.

The Monday after the holiday I run into a guy I work with who is also a Cubs fan and was sitting a few sections away in the bleachers. I tell him about the yelling and getting the girls ejected and he said, "That was you guys?" Apparently several sections worth of fans in the bleachers were aware of this incident.

Anyway, the Cubs lost that game; in fact, they lost the two games we went to that series. So, another Cubs hat gets put into retirement as I continue in my quest to find a Cubs hat that I can continually wear to a Cubs game where they win. I suppose I could also look at countervaling forces, such as people who I went with, and so forth. Maybe I should give the hat another try under other conditions; say, a Game 4 this fall.

Ipods

Within the last month of so my 2nd Ipod finally gave out. Hadn't had any problems with it for the 2 years I had it, until I decided to nearly fill the memory with songs in preparation for the trip to Europe, only then did I start to get hard drive issues. So, whatever. . .the first Ipod's hard drive went kaput after a night when the cats decided that it was time to knock it off a table and chase it around the floor. Got the second one a few months before moving out here, and a month before Apple released the video Ipod; I was upset, to say the least. So, for the past 2 years, I've been grooving to my 20GB picture Ipod with no problems. Decide to fill up the hard drive, boom, I've got problems. Got fed up with having to re-set everything, and then the Ipod not connecting to my laptop, that it was decided that I should just take the leap and get a new Ipod, my 3rd Ipod in 5 years. -And with that, went to the Apple store yesterday and plunked down the cabbage for a brand new 160GB black Ipod. Took it home, opened it up, connected it to the laptop and. . . . .nothing.

Yep, nothing. After a few tries I finally got a notification that this Ipod only works with Mac OS X 10.4.8 or higher. Guess what I have: 10.3.9. So, call me a lazy bastard or a cheap-skate, but I had no real reason to upgrade the laptop's operating system beyond what's already there. Combine that with a plan to get a new laptop in the next few months leaves me with practically no reason at all to go out and buy Mac OS 10.5. So, I decided to try and find Mac OS 10.4, which is unavailable on through various Apple stores. Next stop was Ebay where I could find some for sale, ranging from $50 to buy it nows of $130. If someone is going to buy 10.4 for $130, just go out and buy 10.5 for the same price. Frankly, I can't really believe that 10.4 isn't just being given away, especially since it's now more than 2 years old.

So, I'm stuck with a brand new Ipod that I can't connect to my computer without an upgraded operating system, and an operating system that I don't need to upgrade because we're getting a brand new one in a few months. So, until I can find a cheap version of 10.4, I guess I'm stuck with an Ipod I can't use for the time being.

Yes, I realize that this is an incredibly whiney post, but so what, I just needed to vent.

That's odd

So, went to the local McDonalds for lunch, the same one with the $1.39 double cheeseburger (despite McDonalds' continued marketing of it as part of their $1 menu) and whilst waiting for my double cheeseburgers, a customer after me walks up and orders a Happy Meal. Now, this guy was like 5'6", bald and around 45 years old and in a suit. . .ordering a Happy Meal. What made it even odder was that he paid for his Happy Meal with a $100 bill. Just use you debit card and be done with; did you really need to break your $100 bill at McDonalds by ordering a Happy Meal? Couldn't you have splurged on the double quarter pounder and large Coke, instead of the Happy Meal with small Coke? I can't help but think there was a better usage for that $100.

Anyway, last night a group of us went the Cubs/Giants game here in San Francisco. We got decked out in Cubs stuff and sat in the bleachers. Several amusing events from the game: a whole rash of taunts and jeers went out to Jim Edmonds, 95% of them from people in Cubs gear; Ryan Theriot almost getting Ray Durham into believing there was an overthrow on a play at 2nd base; the "Express" bathroom underneath the bleachers with a line out the door; and having my friend Vansmack buy 4 hot chocolates for various females that were wronged by him at one point or another during the game was amusing as well. Those were just some of the random sights from the game last night, not even going into the terrible decision-making that went on in the 7th inning allowing the Giants to score the 2nd run. It was chilly, but considering that I grew up going to games at Candlestick, games at AT&T Park are more than manageable.

Fun times at the Post Office

So, had to go to the Post Office today to drop off a letter to the local Union stating that I oppose fees taken out of my check to cover certain expenditures, such as lobbying. The closest Post Office to my work is in a federal courthouse, which means going through security, presenting i.d., putting metal objects through the x-ray and stating my business. A mere annoyance.

The Post Office is in the basement of the federal courthouse, and after walking through a labyrinth, I find the Post Office. The first thing I see as I approach the double doors is a sign that says "No Stamps." Yes, a Post Office that is out of stamps. A portent of things to come.

I get in line and wait, and wait, and wait. Let's say the Post Office worker was deliberate, very deliberate. He has a bald spot on the top of his head, glasses, and a beard that is reminiscent of former Surgeon General C. Everett Coop- a sculptured beard and is long enough to be combed into a slight curl. So, I'm waiting, and waiting, and notice that not only is he deliberate, not only is he slow, but he also has a habit of sticking his tongue out, rather, slipping his tongue would be more accurate. He moves stiffly as he pokes at the computer in front of him all the while every 3 or 4 seconds slipping his tongue out like a snake. It's obvious that it's one of those involuntary habits or tics, but it's gross and annoying. I would say unbecoming a federal employee, but then I remember a) he works for the Post Office and b) I lived in D.C. and know about federal employees.

So, after about 15 minutes, I was the 3rd in line when I got there, I step up to the desk and get out of there rather scot free in 5 minutes. But all I can think about his this guy slipping his tongue out, over and over and over. Hopefully my letter made it out today.

More Life in San Francisco

We had friends in town over the weekend and on Monday from Rhode Island. We've been friends since D.C., and they came out for a visit and brought their 8 month old along. Over the weekend, drove down the coast, where all the beaches are packed and saw a family with 3 kids all of whom were nekkid, including a 4 or 5 year old boy who once he dried off promptly went down face first into the sand, still nekkid. Gross. On Sunday, went to Napa and stopped at a few wineries. No big deal. But, they weren't flying back until Tuesday, so decided to take Monday off and entertain Andrew the husband with a trip to San Francisco's very own Anchor Steam Brewing Company for a tour and free samples.

Found our way to the brewery which is housed in a rather Art Deco style building. Walk up two flights of stairs, and at the top of the second floor is a guy in a white jump suit there to check off names for the tour- check. Walk in and wait in a room surrounded by various platters with beer logos and pictures on it, including such luminaries as Old Style, Ballentine, Schmidt's, Yuengling, but, alas, no Natty-Boh. At the end of the room was the bar, and in between were various beer making exhibits, several chairs to lounge around in, and in the very far corner a 3 shelf bookcase with Anchor Steam souvenirs. We wait about 5 minutes, then the tour begins- the tour guy proceeds to talk about the process Anchor Steam does to make their beer, shows examples of the 5 main ingredients in Anchor Steam, other than water, explains that every drop of Anchor Steam beer sold world-wide is made in this brewery, talks about the history of Anchor Steam, what a "steam" beer is and how that got incorporated into the Anchor Steam name, and how in the 70s they almost ceased to exist until it was purchased by one Fritz Maytag, and how he has turned the brewery around to be what it is today. The tour guy also explained the various types of beer made by Anchor Steam, of which we would eventually sample 6 of them- I only knew of 3 beers, so I was pretty surprised to learn they made more than just the Christmas beer, Liberty Ale and the namesake. Moved on to the kettles, apparently, the whole process is done in three very large kettles, or tums as they are apparently called. Anchor Steam beer is made in those 3 kettles 4 days a week, with the 5th day devoted to one of their other styles of beer. Walked down two flights of stairs to see the vats of beer waiting to be bottled- they keep the beer at 35 degrees to "condition" it before putting into bottles.

Saw the bottling line, but as we approached it all we heard was breaking glass- as I was to find out later, any mistake with the bottle, including things like misaligned labels are thrown away, except for a few which are saved for employee disbursement. Oh, how sad, you'd think that there would be beer outlets where there is nothing wrong with the liquid itself, just that the bottle is a little odd or the label is wrong. The tour guy said that if they were to let any mistake out that would effect the perception of Anchor Steam, and that can't be allowed. Fine, but do you really need to throw away perfectly good beer in the process? Perhaps just save all those bottles and have a distributor here in town sell those misfit beer bottles at a fraction of the cost, that way you're not left with unsold beer.

We finished up the tour with some additional information on some non-beer liquor that Anchor Steam makes. I am familiar with their rye whiskey, but didn't know they make three different kinds of rye whiskey, I also learned they make two types of gin, and that Fritz owns a vineyard in Sonoma and makes wine, port and grappa. I got the impression that the wine, port and grappa is not readily available for sale and is made in very limited quantities.

After that, we headed back into the room where the tour started and we began our drinking, in 8 ounce glasses. First up was the Anchor Summer. It was very light and refreshing; very enjoyable and 4.6% alcohol. Next, the Anchor Steam, which is the most popular and familiar of all the Anchor beers (4.9% alcohol). After that was the Anchor Liberty Ale which I liked a lot more than I thought I would (6% alcohol). The tour guide called it the first Pale Ale, and was first created to commemorate the midnight ride of Paul Revere, only it came out a year early in 1975. Next came the Anchor Bock (5.5% alcohol). It was a lot darker than I was expecting, having spent most of college living off of Shiner Bock. Which then lead to a discussion about Sam Adams' Double Bock, which the Anchor Bock seemed to be more similar. Andrew and I then reminisced about our experiences with Sam Adams' Double Bock and its effects. Next was the Anchor Porter (5.6% alcohol). I don't normally care for Porter's, they are too bitter for my liking and I don't really care for the coffee/chocolate overtones of the beer, but it was free and this was our 5th beer, so I wasn't dwelling on those negatives. Finally we got to the Anchor Old Foghorn (~9% alcohol!!!!). The Old Foghorn is called a barley wine and is much sweeter than normal beer, so much so that the tour guy said that it was best enjoyed after dinner. I can say that it was tasty, and at roughly 9% alcohol that's some bottle of beer. So, that was 6 beers each poured in 8 ounces. With the Porter and the Old Foghorn weighing me down the tour guy asked if anyone wanted another pour before he closed everything down- I asked for a return to the Summer so that I could start refreshed before meeting the girls for lunch.

Before I leave this entry though, I must bring up something else that took place whilst we were all tasting the beer. A gentleman next to me started talking to another Anchor employee who he apparently knew and started lambasting him for the lack of energy efficiency measures at the brewery, such as the use of incandescent lightbulbs throughout the brewery (the Anchor employee noted that Fritz isn't big on the light put out by the CFL), he then went on about how Sierra Nevada has solar panels, and does Anchor plan on installing solar panels, at which point the employee said, Look outside, how would solar panels help; it was overcast that day in San Francisco, as it is most days in San Francisco. After being harassed enough by Mr. Pat-Myself-On-The-Back, he then started asking the tour guy questions about their distribution and how much energy and carbon is used because they ship their beer around the world. Then he posits: How much better the world would be if we only consumed food and liquid from places within 150 miles of where we lived. The tour guy responded, Maybe, but I love my Scotch. Mr. Self-Satisfaction was having none of the snark and wondered if he could perhaps find a local maker of Scotch or drink something else that did not have as much evil carbon associated it with. Tour guy said Nope, he likes his scotch. I could do nothing but roll my eyes and sigh very loudly at the gall this person had to criticize Anchor Steam for providing a product that people wanted. Yes, god forbid that people outside of the Bay Area want Anchor Steam and that Anchor Steam wants to satisfy that demand. How dare Anchor Steam do that. I am so tired of listening to self-satisfied bay area people go on and on and on about how energy efficient they are, and how their carbon footprint is this or that (normally only after paying for a carbon offset to ease their own conscience). Nevermind that that the 150 mile limit may actually increase emissions and carbon, since large operations that truck in produce from far away is able to make up the carbon difference in volume; in other words, the local farm can bring in 200 to 2,000 pounds of produce from within 150 miles, but the large distributor can bring in 40,000 pounds of produce from within 1,000 miles, the carbon saved from the miles is offset by the volume of food brought in en masse. Course, that's only looking at the environmental aspect of the 150 mile limit, it says nothing about supporting local businesses or freshness or anything like that.

So Andrew not only got to taste some of San Francisco's own Anchor Steam, he also got to come into contact with a smug San Franciscan.

Ohhh, and one other thing about the tour: apparently it was new mother outing day, as there were 7 mothers carrying newborns on the tour, without dads. At the end of the tour they weren't shy about drinking the beer either.

Anyway, when in town during the week, I highly recommend taking the Anchor Steam brewery tour, but reservations are required. I mean it's 3 free beers, and good beer at that.

Life in San Francisco

Just wanted to share a funny story....

The other morning around 8:50 AM or so I was waiting on the corner of Lincoln and 9th Avenue for a bus, and a woman walks up to me. She asks: Do you know where I can buy a protein bar or something like that? I say: There's a Jamba Juice down on the next corner. And she says: Oh, you mean THAT restaurant?

What? Since when is a Jamba Juice a restaurant. More importantly, when did self-interested people like her become too good for Jamba Juice? She left in a huff, and I saw her a few minutes later across the street at a "health food" store, the kind of store that sells raw food and other nonsense, only it was closed. She seemed to be rather distraught at it being closed as that meant, apparently, having to suffer a trip to Jamba Juice. Of course, I only get one thing at Jamba because everything else seems to have soy-this and yogurt-that in it. I'm tempted to order one of those drinks that has soy milk in it and ask if I can have whole milk instead.

Sometimes I can only shake my head at the people that live in this city; and I guess that would include me.

Oh well

Today is June 3, and there's an election today here in California. But I failed to finish my proposition review. Frankly, I was not up to the task in reviewing what was left. I went to my polling place, which is in a Starbucks; if only it could have been two doors down from there which is my favorite bar, how much nicer would voting be if you could have a beer to go along with it? Anyway. . .voted, and got out of there.

But, I'm not here to talk about my voting experience, no. . .today, I decided to try the new McDonald's Southern Style Chicken Sandwich. Before moving on I must note two things about my local McDonald's- 1) as part of this whole "Southerninginging" of McDonald's, I could have also ordered a 32oz Sweet Tea to go along with my southern style chicken sandwich, but I hated sweet tea growing up, and I still hate it today (I don't like regular tea either, go figure), and 2) despite the numerous commercials and webpage (which I'm not going to bother linking to because it is just too annoying), the double cheeseburger at this particular McDonald's is not on the $1 menu, instead, it costs $1.39.

Back to the chicken sandwich. It's basically a rip-off of Chick-fil-A, but not anywhere near as tasty. It had three measly pickles, the bun was a bit too greasy and squishy, but not in a good way, and. . .either it had been steamed or had sat out too long, but the bun stuck to the bottom of the cardboard box that it was served in. The chicken was ok, but didn't have the same kick that you can get from Chick-fil-A; in other words, a bit more pepper. Plus, it was a bit smaller than the Chick-fil-A sandwich. So, would I order it again- maybe. At least there are no tomatoes on this one; every time I go to the local McDonald's and order one of their other chicken sandwiches it comes with a tomato, even though I specifically asked for no tomatoes. Needless to say, customer service can be lacking, but if they have the gall to charge $1.39 for a double cheeseburger, what else should I expect?

Speaking of cheeseburgers, I was surprised to read that a favorite cheeseburger place of mine from when I lived in D.C. has recently arrived to Southern California: Five Guys. Oh the many Sunday's when I would drive out to their Alexandria, Virginia location to get a double cheeseburger and an order of fries, whilst nursing a hangover. They also have a few locations in Alabama, where I have family- according to family accounts, their burgers are still good. Nevertheless, with franchising comes the risk of lowered standards.

I will be very interested to visit one of these franchised locations across the country and see if their burgers are still good and live up to my memories. That's always a challenge. Memory has a way of obscuring details, only focusing on the pleasant or terrible details of an event- and not putting the event in perspective. With sensory memories, such as food, things are never just ok- it is nearly impossible the match the first memory of something you associate with good, instead, the sense of excitement and eagerness to recreate that first moment often ends with a sense of disappointment. Events like these can never just be, they are compared and contrasted, and the memory of the past events can fool you into thinking something else. Food memories especially, at least for me.