The driver hustled us onto the bus. “Step up! Step up!,” he bellowed. The three of us sat our stilettos down all in a row, fishing in our purses for the required $1.50 each. Emily, sitting in the middle, got up to pay for all of us. As she did, what could only be described as a crazy man boarded. He sat down smack in the middle of me and Tricia, even though there were a bizillion empty seats on the bus. Tricia, not a frequent rider of MUNI and having not encountered many crazy people in her life, spoke to him. “Excuse me, excuse me, sir.” He looked at her. “That seat is taken. Our friend is sitting there.” He immediately jumped up. “Whoa! I sat on your friend?!?!”

He moved across from us. Emily returned to her seat and began texting a message, head down, concentrating intently.

He pointed at me, then at Emily. “Hey! You must be roommates. She got her boots, then you got all jealous and had to go out and buy you a pair. Yeah! She must be a teacher, ’cause she’s a teachin’ you how to wear some boots!”

Emily continued texting; I tried not to snicker. It was funny. I turned my head towards the back of the bus to avoid eye contact.

Tricia, not familiar with the rules of avoiding crazies, caught his eye. “Hey! Does she have a sister named Barb?” I was sending my strongest mental telepathy to Tricia — Don’t talk to the crazies… Don’t talk to the crazies…. The message must have bounced off Emily, who was still texting. “No, she only has brothers.” The crazy man thought for a moment, “Well, does she have a brother that looks like Barb?”

“We really don’t need to leave until 5:45 if we have to be there by 6:30. Seriously.”
pause
“Okay, but I don’t think it will take us that long to get there. Especially that early in the morning.”
pause
“All right. I’ll see you at 5:00.”

He picked me up at 5:00. He had a coffee. I looked around the car. Where was my cup? We arrived at the docks at 5:38. I knew it wouldn’t take us that long to get there. The boat didn’t set sail until 7:00 am. I knew at that point we could never travel together.

**********************
It was a rough ride out to the Farralon Islands. One woman in particular had a rough time with it. For almost the entire day she was leaning over the edge of the boat, throwing up into the turbulent waters below. One of the deckhands, a young, sturdy woman named Andrea, chided her, “Honey. Don’t throw up into the wind. You’ll get it all over you. Go to the other side of the boat.” As she lead the sick one away, she rolled her eyes. “How long have you been doing this?” I asked her. “Too long. Too long…”

***********************
Andrea came around, collecting money for the “jackpot.” Biggest fish, winner take all. I was cranky. I had had no coffee, I had had to stand on the dock for over an hour waiting to board the boat, and I was questioning my judgment for agreeing to go deep sea fishing on a first date. “Nope – not interested,” I responded. Which surprised me. I’ve never refused a bet before. Whatever. I’d never been fishing before, there was no way I’d win a silly pool.

***********************
“Could you give me some help over here? I think my line is caught on someone else’s…” The captain came over, and helped me navigate along the side of the boat. Under some people’s lines, over others. He finally turned to me. “I think you’ve got a live one. Start reeling it in.” I did. And did. And did. I braced myself against the edge of the boat and cranked as hard as I could, the line getting tauter and tauter. I watched as a huge fish splashed this way and that, not willing to be pulled out of the water. The captain helped me reel it in; it was by far the biggest catch of the day.

***********************
The rest of the afternoon I kept hoping someone else would catch a bigger fish, so that I wouldn’t have won, but not won, the pool. No one did. Everyone was amazed that I, the only woman not sea sick, caught the biggest fish. I was bummed I hadn’t paid the $5 to enter the pool. Hindsight….

Narrow aisles prevail at Mollie Stone’s. I nudged past an older woman perusing the pinots. I selected my pretzels, then excused myself again as I blocked her view, walking towards the dairy. I remembered I also wanted cookies, turned around, and slid past her once again. “God!” she exclaimed. “Who thought it was a good idea to put the two most shopped items on the same aisle – wine and cookies?”

He approached me earnestly as I stood in line at Pearl’s, waiting to see Giacomo Gates, billed as the vocalese of beebop.

“Rosalinda?”

I smiled. Now there’s a name you don’t hear very often. Rosalinda. I could be what I picture a Rosalinda to be. I have long dark hair and deep brown eyes.

Considering I was with my parents on their last night in town, I decided not to assume another identity. “No,” I said.

“Oh,” he stumbled. “You look like her.”

“No worries,” I offered. And with that he returned to his spot in line a few places in front of us.

Minutes later Rosalinda arrived. This obviously was either a first or blind date. Rosalinda was about 8 inches shorter than me, blue eyes, and long blond hair. But to his credit, we both were female.

While planning our staff offsite and searching the internet for fun, inexpensive team building activities and games, I found this gem:

“The game ends when no one will play anymore.”

Stating the obvious?

So Bryan and Maggie have lent me their car while they are places not here. And it has been exciting. It has been liberating. It has been the epitome of freedom – go whenever, wherever. And this morning, it was sad. As soon as I began to unlock the door, I sensed something was wrong. What was it? All appeared to be the same. Except. Except. One minor detail. There on the driver’s seat was a sticker that read “rear.” Rear? Rear of what? I was soon to learn it was the rear of the car stereo that had been liberated from the lovely red Jeep it had called home.

Truthfully, the only way I knew the car had been broken into was that there was no stereo where there once had been. The inside was very clean. Papers had been rifled through, then put back in place. No windows had been broken to enter the car. The stereo was taken out in a very considerate manner. No wires were ripped, no dashboard defaced. And they even locked the doors after they stole the stereo.

Hardened criminal meets Miss Manners. A match made in heaven.

Thanks to Bryan and Maggie, I had a car this weekend. Having not had a car for several years, it took a moment for me to realize the magnitude of this. I could go anywhere I wanted. By myself. I wasn’t bound by public transportation or the generosity of friends.

I immediately searched the internet for Bay Area trails I had yet to explore. After reading several descriptions on Bay Area Hiker, I chose the Estero Trailhead because this sentence was included in the description “Estero is one of the loneliest trailheads at Point Reyes.” A day, by myself, in the wilderness? Heaven.

Mine was the only car in the parking lot at the trailhead. Yes, it was 8:30 on a Saturday morning, but still. Eager with anticipation, I ventured onto the trail. The first bit was gentle, an easily sloped grassy trail, narrowly winding this way and that. I walked along, relishing the quietness of the morning, basking in the chill of the fog. Lizards scurried on the trail in front of me, their sudden movements first startling me, then not. Birds hopped out from bushes. A small bunny ran across the path in front of me, unsure of the safest route. Pine tree boughs laden with opening cones lurked towards the ground. Tantalizingly beautiful purple thistles pricked my legs as I drew near.

I came to the first estuary. As I crossed the bridge, I was mesmerized by the swirl of fresh water meeting salt, whisking round and round.

I continued up a hill, avoiding the brush on the overgrown trail, thankful for my long sleeves. I stopped to catch my breath and looked back down the hill. Riverlets snaked across the landscape, coming together, drifting apart.

I continued on, walking through pastures of curious cows. Having learned from my last hike they are indeed not predatory creatures, I walked with confidence. Up and over another hill. In the distance was another group of cows. Or was it? As I drew closer I noticed the animals stiffen and stare at me. The group of eight were not cows, but deer. Graceful, lithe, multi shades of brownness deer. All except for one. One solitary pure white deer. I stopped, not wanting to frighten the animals. I felt as though I had entered a storybook and a magical creature stood before me. The white deer, on the edge of the group, lifted its head and slowly, gracefully turned back towards me. I stared. It stared. I held my breath, not wanting to upset the balance of the fascination of me with it and it with me. After what seemed like an eternity, but could only have been seconds, the white dream bounded up and over the hill, the other seven sprinting after it. I stood still for a moment, thankful for such fortune.

I continued on, finally reaching my destination, Sunset Beach. I walked along the rocky shore, hearing nothing but the roar of waves in the distance coupled with the easy lapping of the tide on the sand. On a flat rock I enjoyed my sandwich, still in disbelief that I had hiked over four miles and not seen another human. After a brief respite, I began my return to the trailhead. A couple of miles in, I reached a split in the trail. Not quite ready for my day to be over, I ventured off towards another destination, Drakes’ Head. More cows greeted me as I passed by their watering hole. They stopped chewing their cuds, stared at me and with a switch of their tail returned to the grass under foot.

Not long thereafter I reached Drakes’ Head, a bluff overlooking the expansive ocean. I sat down, content to listen to the wind blowing while soaking up warm rays of sunshine. Something to the left caught my eye. More wildlife? I started down the hill, hugging the edge of the bluff. Curious as to how high I was, and how steep the bluff was, I sneaked closer to the edge. And closer. I peered over the edge. There, in the water below, massive manta rays glided near the shore, skinny tails following the smooth movements of perfectly symmetrical fins. What were those other shapes? Sharks, too many to count, wove in and out, back and forth. Dark, ominous forms swam in the crystalline water. I watched, fascinated, until the creatures were mere dots.

I began my trek back to the trailhead, benignly content with my day in the wilderness. The day had warmed, the grasshoppers were out in full force. As I walked the trail, hoppers hopped and hit my chest, my face, my backpack. I laughed, to myself, to the skies, to the fields, and continued on. On the trail back I encountered a few groups of hikers. As I greeted them, I wondered what surprises they would encounter on their journey.

I handed the clerk a ten dollar bill. He accepted it, looked at me earnestly, and said, “Credit?” I thought for a moment, puzzled, then answered, “No, cash.”