Um, this world is small.
B and I visited Dan and Steve’s casa in Cloverdale last weekend where the four of us spent two days tasting wine and taking walks. During one such walk I divulged to Dan that I’d been struggling as of late with the mass exodus of my friends from San Francisco. Jamie’d moved to Portland a few years ago and Sam to London last fall, Kelly and Trevor packed up their shit for Seattle at the beginning of this year and then, much to my surprise, Blazer bailed for Walnut Creek last week, which while technically is in the Bay Area might as well be in Wakanda for how often we’ll see each other.
“Of my first group of friends in San Francisco,” I told Dan, “three remain.”
And then last night happened.
While dining together at Nopa Marf broke the news that he and Marlowe had “made the decision” to move to Mill Valley sometime next summer.
“Ryan has a better shot of getting into a good school there,” he told me.
I nearly barfed my over-priced French fries into his hair.
But I understood, sort of.
After dinner I picked my heavy heart up off the floor and Marf helped me drag it down to The Page for a nightcap. We were near Kari’s apartment so I called her and she texted Ray and suddenly we had an impromptu party going. While sipping beers and snacking on slices the four of us teased each other about the silly shit we did when we were young, dumb and broke.
It was like old times.
“What’s everybody up to this weekend?” I asked during a lull in the conversation, my mood having been bolstered enough by the encouragement of very many beers to let Marf’s nasty news slip away for a while.
“Ray and I are going apartment hunting,” Kari said.
“Oh yeah?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “In what neighborhood?”
“Um, in Oakland.”
This morning, shortly after waking, I sent Kari, Marf and Ray a cute photo I’d snapped at the bar to show that I wasn’t harboring any hard feelings about their impending abandonment of me and the City of our youth.
Then I realized that I was, in fact, harboring hard feelings about their impending abandonment of me and the City of our youth and decided to follow the aforementioned cute photo up with a less cute text message.
Marf is, all at once, a truly good person and an exceptionally bad influence.
Tomorrow gon hurt.
In the winter of 2005 four of my closest friends used their spring breaks to visit me at school in the Big Apple. Wicked was a hot ticket on Broadway at the time but we pooled our young luck and managed to coax four front row seats out of the pre-show lottery anyway. Laura was one of those friends and earlier this evening, nearly a decade and a half after our first viewing, the two of us nabbed tickets to see Wicked again, this time in London where we’re traveling for the company that employs us. A great many things have changed in our lives since college, but it’s comforting to know that some things, like a silly, touching musical about friendship, never do, and that such things can still give a couple of old pals a night to remember.
I touched down in Chicago around 11:00pm last Friday, went (too) hard at Kate and Pat’s wedding on Saturday, hopped a twenty-six minute flight to Muskegon for some long-awaited/very-necessary hang time with my familia on Sunday and then made my way back to the Golden State on Thanksgiving evening to spend a few days sleeping a sh*tload, being all up in Ellie Girl’s cute face and furniture shopping for the new Castro casa with B-Turd.
Below are the photos I have in my iPhone camera roll from all of that.