The night before Jason's flight to San Francisco happened to fall on August 25th, 1996; the Second Anniversary of MSCL, which almost 20 of us celebrated by joining that Sunday night's IRC chat. I had "known" Jason over IRC for nearly year, since the first MSCL anniversary, which had prompted me to suggest the IRC chat that had become a fixed feature of each of our weeks. Our MSCL night, something we looked forward to as the hour approached each Thursday.
There was a "special" feeling to IRC that night, because of the high number of attendees and because of Jason's impending flight. We made arrangements, traded phone numbers, and set the time.
Nick Unger, who had attended the first MSCL get-together, was also there and said that he would drive up from the South Bay to join us. This was extra good news, because Nick had left me with a highly favorable impression from that first get-together in Christmas of 95.
And so, on the anticipated day, I called Jason's hotel before he was supposed to arrive, and left a "a message for Mr. Pennington" that simply said, "Welcome to San Francisco" followed by my home phone number. I thought of Jason feeling - well - welcomed at finding such a message the moment he arrived in the city.
Later that evening, the phone rang and there was exactly the kind of voice I'd expected to hear - young, enthusiastic, alert. It was such a treat to finally be speaking to Jason after a year of IRCing with him every Thursday night.
I was fascinated. So this was the voice I should have been hearing all those nights on IRC, saying those things. A voice that was intelligent . . . and what else is there in it? The voice is a little commanding. Hmmm. I hadn't expected that. This spelled trouble.
Rather than matching my own enthusiasm about finally meeting each other, Jason seems to be ignoring me and instead is concentrating on asking where Nick Unger is. Nick hasn't arrived at Jason's hotel. Where's Nick? Didn't I give Nick directions? (Yes) Were the directions detailed? (Yes) Does Nick know what time we're getting together? (Yes). What was going to be Jason's next question? "Were the directions in pig latin?"
I felt my enthusiasm evaporate. Uh-ohhhhhhh. This might turn out to be a long evening. Maybe I'd better keep it short. There was a funny-sounding beep on the line. Whatever. "So, what time do I show up at your hotel, Jason?"
And so, while still giving things a chance, I made arrangements to arrive at Jason's hotel, a cute little downtown affair a block from Market street, the financial district's main drag.
San Francisco is a physically small town, and in 20 minutes I had crossed by freeway from its southwest to its northeast corner. While driving, I thought of what I would say after the get-together, what was in store for that night. I wondered if some IRC listees were thinking of us. "Aren't Alfredo and Jason supposed to be getting together tonight?"
I was met by Jason in front of his hotel. He was even better looking than his picture. Great. Another reason to hate him, he was probably up to the gills in women, As soon as he opened the door to my car and peered in ("Hi." "Hey.") he told me what the funny beep was. That had been the concierge trying to reach him to tell him that Nick was downstairs! Nick had left, saying he would return in 20 minutes. A little tour of the environs while Nick returns? Sure!
So, Jason finally got into my car, closed the door and I sensed something. He seemed a little upset and concerned. Maybe he wasn't commanding, or cold, or distant. Maybe he wanted this evening to go well. Gee, maybe he was even nervous, or concerned for Nick. Once in his physical presence, I could sense that his distant demeanor had had nothing to do with me. I later learned that the strain of travelling all day long to a city and state you'd never been to can put some strain on a guy. I had been thinking more about myself and less of how Jason must have felt.
A that moment, something seemed to click inside of him. It was as though we hadn't really met until that moment. "Well, hi!!", he said, and enthusiastically shook my hand. Yeah, this was the friendly Jason I knew. I smiled. I was very pleased to meet him.
I drove him around downtown a little, and stopped off at the nearby convention center that he was to attend the next day. I was in full tourist guide mode, discussing stuff and pointing out this and that. It always amazes me how much lore there is in each of us about our hometowns, and I was leisurely rolling off factlets about this building or that street.
Soon, it was time to go pick up Nick Unger, who was there just as he had promised. Jason went into the lobby to get him, and as they approached my car I was happy to see him again. Nick had been at the first San Francisco get-together and had made a very good impression, so I was looking forward to hanging out with him as well. They both got into my car, and I pulled away from the curb. It was finally happening! San Francisco Get-Together #4 was on its way!
I was only a little hungry and up for a little sight-seeing, especially since it was already dusk. However, I was outvoted by two guys who were really serious about getting some food, and soon. There was no stammering and "whatever you guys want" from either of them. I was happy that they both felt comfortable enough to bop me on the head and say no, let's eat first. Jason had said on IRC that he wanted to see the Golden Gate bridge, so after asking what kind of food they wanted, I chose a restaurant between downtown and the bridge. Sightseeing afterwards. Food now.
I had had a hankering for Vietnamese food for over a week now so I drove them to Le Soleil, a French-influenced Vietnamese restaurant in the cute little shop-and-restaurant street in The Richmond, my old neighborhood. We got down to very comfortably discussing MSCL, the mailing list, and the intimate personal quirks of every single person in it. I am sworn to secrecy, but I will squeal for five bucks. : )
Jason speals gently, and he has a charming Southirn axxint. I told him this, and Nick agreed. I noticed that we were getting along famously. Not in a loud, obvious way, but there seemed to be a feeling of great comfort and ease, even appreciation, for these people I had essentially just met. I kept to myself as Nick and Jason talked, and thought about the way I am; the way Jason and Nick seemed to be, and I preliminarily decided that it was because we were similar kind of guys. While we retained our individual qualities, it seemed that Nick and Jason were friendly, warm and intelligent. I don't know how I seemed to them, but I perceive myself as this kind of person also.
Over the past six months, I had often had a little mental picture of me stepping up to a podium to give a speech in a large, darkened wood-paneled room as 200 or so people listened. In this vision, while waiting to speak I would fumble amiably with some speech papers while a bright spotlight bathed me from high above. Some people would be open to what I had to say, some would not. I knew that this represented a mental image of what a convention of listies would be like. What would I say? What would they say? Would a few of them still be holding on to their anger over my anti-abusive boyfriend post? Would I successfully be able to communicate what I am about, from that podium, to that audience?
I found out that I wasn't the only one thinking about a listie get-together. I came out of the reverie to find that Jason was telling Nick that we ought to have a listie convention! I later learned on IRC that Elvina Tong had also spoken of this. I remembered casually suggesting it to the list after the second SF get-together in March. Hmmm, maybe there was some synchronicity here. Maybe it was even possible. We discussed plans, and agreed that we would broach the subject to the list. Jason was extremely gracious in treating both Nick and me to dinner.
After dinner, it was off to see the Golden Gate bridge. We went to a vista point at the San Francisco end of the bridge [seen in this daytime picture of me taken another day in front of the bridge] and walked down in darkness through the shrubbery to the edge of a cliff overlooking Fort Point, a civil-war era fort under the southern anchorage of the bridge. [seen in this small but spectacular daytime picture taken from the very spot to which I walked Jason and Nick]. Many people don't know this, but the Golden Gate Bridge is surrounded on both sides by, essentially, wilderness.
Fog covered the tops of the very impressive 700-foot towers, but it was still a sight I can't ever get over, even if I see it a thousand times. Folks, this is the kind of thing the word awesome was invented for.
I put on my little tourist guide hat again, and gave a little speech on the things we could see. I told Jason that at the other side of the bridge lay Napa valley, our famous wine-making region I also pointed out to the five-foot thick cables that arched gracefully from the base of the bridge to the top of the south tower, and which then swooped down almost to the roadway and back up to the north tower. Since, I said, they got tired of trucking Napa valley wine into San Francisco, they had decided to hollow out one of the swooping cables on the bridge, and use it to pipe wine directly into the bottling factories in the city. You know, Alaska pipeline style.
Jason politely seemed to be impressed by this, while through the very dim darkness I could see Nick giving me a weird and funny sideways look which grew stronger as I tried to keep my composure, grinning from ear to ear. Jason just waited. After 10 seconds, it was no use and I burst out laughing at my own little joke. I thought of protesting, "But it's truuuuuuuuue", but I could see that my cover was blown.
All along, I had been hearing little scratching noises from just over the cliff, and I finally looked down to see a cute little skunk foraging for food in the darkness. Repressing a loud eeeek, I warned the guys and walked away. I took that to be our cue to head for the car.
From there, I took Jason and Nick to twin peaks, a very impressive 1000+ foot vista point near the geographical center of San Francisco. You can see about seven cities from there, with San Francisco sparkling before you like a carpet of jewels in the night. Unfortunately, it was completely socked in and we didn't see a thing.
I was feeling like some dessert, which I mentioned. Nick seconded this, and he suggested returning to the Java Source, the cafe where we held our first San Francisco get-together during Christmas of 95. We kept chatting and having a good time, until they threw us out at midnight.
It was past 2 AM by Jason's body clock, so he was getting ready to call it a night. I drove him back to his hotel via the Palace of Fine Arts [seen in this small picture which barely does justice to it],via ritzy Nob Hill and via some scary steep hills.
Nick's car was parked near Jason's hotel, so we said our good-byes,
and they both got out at the same time. When they said thanks, and that
it had been good, I knew that they certainly spoke for me as well.
