It’s 2pm when my cell phone rings. I glance down at the caller ID: it’s Thong.

“What are you doing?! I’m in Jack London Square, come see me!”

I know that he’s probably just gotten to the hotel and he’s only got about 4 hours to hang out before he’s gotta hit the rack (gotta get some sleep before they call him at 3 in the morning to sit on a train for 12 hours all the way back to Roseville) so I high-tail it out to Oakland.

It’s a beautiful day the in Bay Area. The temperature is about 70 degrees, the sky is clear, and there is a slight breeze. Just for fun I check the weather in Chico–97 degrees. I miss Chico, yes. But do I miss the heat? Not just no: hell no.

30 minutes later I’m walking into Quinn’s Lighthouse for some pitchers of beer and an earful of Thong-isms. Damn, I miss hangin’ out with this guy.

After Quinn’s we went over to Everett & Jones BBQ for some dinner. I must say that the brisket was damn good. I’ve had better, but not in a long while.

Thong is pretty buzzed, and is practically yelling at me from across the table about how the unions saved America and the big corporations are all out to fuck us. I just nod and eat my cole slaw. I look up from my meal and notice that everyone around us is looking at Thong and whispering. I ask Thong to stop yelling at me.

After dinner we take a walk around the marina and drool over all the sailboats and catamarans. Then it’s time for a little bit o’ Copenhagen with the sunset.

And then it’s 8pm and I gotta leave poor Scott so he can go to bed and try to get some rest.

Just a lazy, calm, good ol’ day in the Bay Area. Nothing crazy happened, no out of control drunk stories. And I feel great.

…and Rice-A-Roni? No, dad, I’m cool. No thanks. Knock yerself out, though. I’ll find something else to eat.

Fish sticks and rice-a-roni was one of my parents staples. I’ve always hated this crap, ever since I was a kid. Frozen fish always tastes like old, rubbery chicken to me. I don’t see how they could have eaten this crap. Bleah.

At any rate, I’m not eating that crap for dinner. I was kinda thinking Japanese again, but was unsure of the restaurant. To be safe I decided to go to Berkeley: there are lots of good places to eat in downtown.

And I didn’t feel like driving either. I’ve been in a mellow mood all day and I almost didn’t leave the house. So, BART it is.

Taking BART is such a pleasant experience. You see, I hate *HATE* driving in traffic. I was leaving the Stack (Haystack, aka Hayward) at around 5pm so I knew I’d hit the bad stuff. On BART I don’t have to do a thing–except sit by the window and listen to music and read my paperback.

As the train sped past San Leandro and Oakland I thought of how nice it was to be above all the filth below me. But, I digress. The train was clean and free from undesirables and surprisingly empty. Thirty minutes after leaving Hayward I was getting off the BART in downtown Berkeley.

OK, I know I said I was undecided but that only lasted a split second. As soon as I parked my truck at Hayward BART I knew what I wanted: Ryowa. I could taste that large Asahi, the gyoza, and the cha shu ramen with extra noodles. Mmmm mmmmm mmmmmmmmm!

Dinner was great, as always. I took a little walk around, noting all the students carousing and such. The sidewalks are very full tonight of people young and old.

And now I’m sitting at a little cafe on the corner of Shattuck and Hearst called Berkeley Espresso. Free wi-fi? Thanks, guys!

And now I’m going to wrap this up, finish my cup of decaf, and get moving. I’ve got more sights to see before I need to catch that last train back to Hayward…

Edit: here’s my amazing, fantastic, super-cool video of the BART.

The DWD Podcast crew stopped by today, and boy was it a full house.  Me, Dave, Ange, Kev, Kym, and Deb showed up to lay down some tracks, drink some beers, eat some pizza, and sing some karaoke.

We had some old material, and recorded some new stuff too.  So Dave, the mix master, threw together a couple of quick shows and I uploaded them to the DWD site.  Good stuff!  Check it out…