Speaking of which, back at Wish, Brock was egging me on to talk to the European guy. The cougar had walked away, leaving the man alone next to us. We both turned and smiled at him, and he slowly looked our way, wondering what the hell we wanted. He smiled cautiously. "Hi," I said. We considered one another, thought the better of it, then resumed our respective evenings.
"Let's go," said Brock, having reached his limit of booze and men. I walked out of Wish feeling like it had been another basic night out, happy for the fealty but fundamentally bored.
Now I can't wait to be bored in San Francisco again. I can't wait to eavesdrop on people's conversations, or eat B'Snacks, or feel out of place, or wish that I had more. And I can't wait to write about it, and have you read it. I'll see you when I get back.
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