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United States, California, San Francisco, The Mission, English, Spanish, Casey, Male, 31-35.

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Monday, June 16, 2003

Looking Superstitiously At My Suitcase.

I find it hard to believe that I'm done with a little more than a half hour to go. I had a long list of chores to do today, and I just about finished them all. I've packed my bags myself, I've zipped them up and am keeping them with me at all times. And no one has asked me to carry anything for them, no. I am certain that I've brought too many clothes, but it wouldn't be me if I didn't. I know I have too many things in my carry-on bag, which will be digging through my shoulder somewhere around Gate 1. Earlier I was pulling books out, saying out loud to myself: "Give yourself fewer distractions on the redeye, not more." (I'm not an easy sleeper on a plane; I'm hoping that a couple drinks and a big burrito for dinner will work as a non-prescription Xanax alternative.)

One of my superstitions is that something always gets forgotten when I travel, so to ensure that it's nothing important, I purposely "forget" something. This time it is the travel toothbrush, which I cannot locate in the rats nest of a shelf filled with plastic toys, scarves, decorative horns, blank tapes...you get the idea. I am not sure that this is going to be good enough to count, though, since the SonicCare is in my checked bag. I'm debating ripping open the bags and throwing at least one item out of each compartment to ensure that I've got enough to meet that cosmic irony check. Will it count that I've forgotten the Boyfriend's cell phone number?

07:55 PM PST (link)

Early Riser.

On warm days in San Francisco, the men who work South of Market often do not wear underpants. At least, the one who was eating lunch at the ARC wasn't, nor was the one on the bicycle. Maybe my sample isn't large enough, but at least I now know when the half moon rises.

05:06 PM PST (link)