Part 1
“Free,” I said with a smile.
The overly-pierced hippy woman looked at me queerly (and I’m not saying that simply because she was wearing a green shirt with white lettering proclaiming “Why Yes, I’m A Dyke!” -- the look she gave was queer, alright? Sometimes, looks are strange, and sometimes, they’re just plain queer... And this one was queer. So stop thinking poorly of me). “Um... Pardon?” she said in reply to my reply.
I smiled slightly. “I... Uh, well... You asked me how I am, and, uh...”
“What?” she asked.
“...Nevermind,” I settled on as my answer. I knew that any attempt to explain to her what it took to actually arrive at that cafe would be met with more queer looks (shut up! It’s the only word that fits!)
She tapped her pen on the side of her notepad. “Well, alright... So what’ll you have?”
“Um... What’s good?” I asked in reply, picking up a menu.
“I dunno,” she said, “A lot of people like the cous cous...”
“Is the cous cous good?”
“Um... I don’t like it...”
“So it’s not good?” I asked.
“Well, I mean... A lot of people like it,” she responded, tapping her pen against her pad again.
I pondered the situation. Here I was, being sold a plate of cous cous by a woman whose only selling point was the fact that everyone else - except her - liked it. I didn’t even know what the hell cous cous was. I mean, I’d never even been in an Indian restaurant before that moment... But I was feeling adventurous. Exploratory.
Free.
“What the hell, I’ll try it,” I said with a slight smile.
She blinked for a moment. Just... Blinked. I thought she was going to write it down... I watched her for a moment, waiting to see if she’d put that pen to a use other than tapping, but nope. She just blinked for a few seconds. “You got it,” she said after the pause.
The whole interaction with her was very queer indeed. And no, not in “that” way (well, okay, SHE was queer in “that” way, but also in the other way that I actually mean, not the one that you keep assuming I’m implying. You’re not being a very gracious reader right now, you know...). But queer, I decided, was good. It was perfect. It was exactly what I needed.
Besides, it beat the holy shit out of the tiny room I’d practically barricaded myself inside of since I’d arrived in San Francisco.
It was horrific; sitting there in that room, I knew that a glorious and exciting new city lay just beyond the door of my apartment. And I wanted to experience it, oh more than anything I wanted to soak myself in the culture and the vibrance and the excitement of San Francisco. I’d even done some research before I flew out to find an area of town that best fit with my interests, settling upon Haight St. just a half mile south of the famous Haight-Asbury neighborhood. My place was a tiny little walk-up near Divisidero Street, a tiny “apartment” I sub-leased from a lady who I knew from the #resort IRC chat I frequented. It wasn’t cheap, but hey... My employer was footing the bill, and I had no trouble whatsoever spending BOSS Systems’s money.
I did, however, have trouble actually LEAVING the place. I wasn’t used to traveling alone. I mean, I’d taken a drive up to Chattanooga by myself before, but other than that, all of my business travels had been with someone - usually Gary. He’d come with me to D.C. for that internet recruiting conference; he’d travelled with me to the New Jersey and New York offices. It was comforting to go with Gary, since he was so seasoned at business travel (and also had the Corporate American Express... And also liked to eat REALLY nice food).
But hey, now I had a Corporate American Express... And before I’d left, Gary even told me that if I kept the monthly expenses below five digits, he’d sign off on anything I purchased. So yeah, I was eager to get out and play on the company’s dime. But for some reason, each time I got to a point where I was ready to go out, I found something else to stall my exit. I’d showered, but I couldn’t go out until my hair was fully dry. And once it was, I just so happen to find an interesting show on television... And once that was over, well, it was time to eat - but I had no idea what was around my new apartment, so maybe I should just order a pizza... And once that came, I was too full to walk around - so I decided to just go out the next day... And as Thursday became Friday, and Friday became the weekend, I started to realize something:
I was pathetic.
I mean, So what - Gary wasn’t here. And neither was Mike, or my sister, or Kayte... Say, doesn’t Kayte live in San Fran-- NO. Can’t even think of that. No no no. Not going to look her up, not going to call her, not going to email her. No. It had only been
five months since we hung out. I’d ignored her emails and letters since... And besides, Andrea would be FURIOUS with me if she found out I actually hung out with her. Of course, Andrea HAD a boyfriend, so what should she care...
No. It would have been a disaster. Besides, I didn’t need Kayte to have a good time here. I didn’t need Mike, or Andrea, or anyone else... All I needed was to man up and get out of that apartment on my own and do some new, exciting stuff in a new, exciting city. So Saturday afternoon, I just put on a jacket and walked out the front door. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do, besides get the hell out of my apartment and - at the very least - get something to eat.
Fortunately for me, there was a little Indian cafe just up the road and across the street from me. And that is where I first tried cous cous, a dish that isn’t actually even Indian. But it was there, and it was new, and I was being adventurous.
“You know... This is really good,” I told the young pierced-up waitress as she came to refill my glass of water.
“Eh, like I said, most people like it,” she said, tossing her stringy hair to the side.
“And you don’t?”
“Nah,” she said, pouring some water and a few ice cubes into the glass. “I’m not a fan of that kind of thing. Glad you liked it though.”
“Yeah, It was tasty... Reminded me of grits.”
“Nasty,” she said, sticking out her tongue.
“Oh... Well, fair enough,” I replied, not really knowing what more to say. “So um... You mind if I ask you a question?”
She immediately sneered. “Not really your type, sweetie,” she said sharply, pointing to her shirt.
“Yeah, uh... I can read,” I replied, letting her know that that was not at all what was on my mind. “I was just looking for some info on the area.”
“Oh...” she said, smiling. “Okay, what do you want to know?”
“Well, like... What is there to do around here?”
“What do you like to do?” she asked in reply.
“I dunno... I’m looking for something cool and unusual. Something adventurous.”
“Oh, well, you’ve come to the right place,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she parroted. “Just go left when you walk out of here, and it’ll find you.”
It was my turn to blink at her for a moment. “Um... What will?”
“I dunno,” she said strangely, “Whatever you’re looking for. It’s all here.” And with that, she plopped my check down on the table and walked away.
She was very qu... Um, very strange.
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