i took my heart to san francisco, chapta 1

for some time now i've been wanting to revisit both san fran and napa valley. haven't been in three or four years. recently an occasion presented itself to get my little behind out there. so i hopped into a taxi, onto a few planes and there i was, some silly 9 hours later. what was i thinking not flying direct? thank goodness for 10-minute manicure and massage at jfk. a good way to kill time fyi. (though the massage is a tiny bit creepy and painful, beware. i'd like someone to try the teeth-whitening and get back to me.)

you should know firstly that i'm meeting a boy there i haven't seen or spoken with in 14.5 years. and 14.5 years ago i spent all of 36 hours with him. not really "with him", gutterbrains, just staying at his place in pensacola florida with a couple of my girlfriends for a crazy new year's eve way back in 1994. to say he is/was an acquaintance is accurate.

weird, absofreakinlutely, but thanks to facebook, you can befriend someone and moments later find yourself checking in at the ritz-carlton san francisco in search of what, hoping for what, if anything. who knows. me, i'm simply going to enjoy the sights, sounds and food one of my favorite places on earth has to offer. crazier things have been done by more educated people than me for less money. right?

i'm gonna go ahead and be honest and say there was a teeny tiny part of me hoping for a great love to be ignited here in san fran. what's more romantic? you never know what can happen. and san fran has been known to ignite. i like to call this being skeptimistic. you probably call it futile but those of you who think i'm a cold-hearted unromantic buffoon might be wrong about me.

as you well know, "give it a whirl" is my life's motto. who wouldn't cougar-pounce at the chance to visit sf and napa for a couple of days and stay at the ritz?

do you know how cool it is to have a hottie in a top-hat and tails open the door of your taxi? i could get used to it. i could. i'm not lying.



well, get this. i'm checking in with the ritz-angel and she informs me they've upgraded my room to a suite. hearing this, i'm doing the white girl cabbage patch dance on the inside. but i have to maintain the level of reserved sophistication one expects of a ritz-carlton guest so i smile and thank the kind woman as if it happens all the time. i do like being referred to as ms. tye. (normally i prefer miss, but i probably look a little haggard after the long flight.)





holy mother of steve mcqueen, this suite is pimpin. once inside i can unleash the dance i've been dying to do since walking through the brass doors of this superswank. and i do. i can run and jump and if i was more limber i could do three backflip pikes and a backflip tuck with a 1/2 twist down the center of this suite. i feel like a little girl. an unsupervised little girl in a huge phat p. diddy suite. i'm so lucky sometimes. someone remind of this next time i'm bitching and moaning about life not being fair.

anyway, enough about this room. suffice it to say i feel like a rockstar and all future hotel stays will likely pale in comparison.

so boy, whom i haven't seen in 14.5 years arrives shortly after i do. he pops up for a hello cocktail before going to dinner. i'm not too nervous answering the door (my suite has a doorbell btw - you can't hear knocking from the back bedroom), though it feels a little like that show, the ugly duckling, when they do the big reveal after the girl gets teeth implants, chin/cheek implants, boob job, tummy tuck, lipo, butt lift, etc. opening the door, nervous, do i look cute to him?

yes, of course i do. duh.

choking down a red bull and vodka lindsay lohan style (i know, what a loser, but hey, i'm exhausted and have a long exciting evening ahead, i can't be yawning), he enjoys a cocktail from my minibar. $12 for an ounce of grey goose and $4 for a bottle of tonic. hmm. oh hell you only live once [me i went for the cheapo $7.50 absolut and $4 red bull]. i am hostess with the mostest so i'm happy to part with $16 for his cocktail [better be damn good though]. sometimes i think it's funny that i look at the prices of things at the mini bar and then don't blink an eye spending a mortgage payment on a bag. indeed a reckless spender i am.

later we meet in the lobby to head off to san francisco's slanted door. a much-talked-about resto located in embarcadero at the restored ferry building. prime location. perfectly lighted, hip vibe - bustling and lots of energy and loud in a cool way. a mix of young, old, stylish and not so fashionable, dates and groups. it's uber-casual - waiters have jeans on. i like that the guy from 14.5 years ago notices and appreciates the chairs in the resto. how observant [and girly]. i believe it would be considered asian-fusion by some, though it's not overly so. i would say it's clearly influenced by the euros as well as the asians. either way, i'm thrilled to be seated in a booth on a platform with a great view of most of the spacious dining room. slanted door is one of those places it's cool to say you've been.

waiter suggests we each choose an app and split an entree. boy from 14.5 years chooses the wood oven roasted manila clams and i choose the kona kampachi. both are delicious - the clams really have a lovely woody flavor. the raw fish is unquestionably fresh and light.


we ask the waiter to choose our entree. neither of us is picky and clearly i'm adventurous or i wouldn't be here in the first place. he brings us grilled grass-fed Anderson Ranch rack of lamb with tamarind sauce (i love tamarind but don't taste it too much here to be honest. damn). it's delicious, not too lamby- i've never heard of lamb from oregon [and i'm happy to hear about it - we need more lamb states]. he pairs with it a pinot from oregon. ponzi vineyard, chehalem mountains, 2007. oregonian lambs drink oregonian wine - that's why they go so well together.

we're happy with this dinner. i don't notice much the goings-on around. you can't when someone asks what you've been doing the past 15 years. this requires focus on the conversation at hand. daunting, no?

back into a taxi to my new home sweet home. you know i hadn't a clue what to expect from this meeting. boy in question's on a rebound like kobe bryant. i have less than zero expectations. since nice girls like me don't kiss or not kiss and tell, i'll leave the rest of the evening to your imaginations. btw, did i mention i have a kickass bose ipod docking station in my suite?