Fish tacos, excrushes, and sing alongs.

by theappliedprocess

“Welcome home” is what the customs official behind gate #28 (obviously I specifically picked this gate) said to me after I showed him my documents. It certainly felt that way. I was back, and this time, perhaps due to my lack of massive facial hair, I was allowed back home with very minimal effort, and big open arms.

The luggage inspection lady wasn’t as friendly, but still way better than usual. She handed me over to another really nice official who I made small talk about Mexican food and in-n-out (the only things on my mind) with as he was going through my bag. He let me go with another “welcome home”.

I texted my good friend ‘Reindeer’, who I was to stay with, as soon as I had a cigarette in my mouth. First things first. He was hanging out with his lovely female friend, and so I told him not to rush, and just let me know where and when I could meet him. I went back inside, charged my phone, texted my Mexican crush (‘Latin T’), googled the closest rubio’s, and wasted about an hour on Facebook and grindr. I then took the BART to embarcadero and indulged in a fish taco, a shrimp taco, a beer, and some beans and chips. The (lesbian) lady at rubio’s was also nice. I truly felt welcomed.

I heard back from ‘Reindeer’ and hailed a cab to his place. It drove me right past ‘SF boy’s’ old place. It feels weird to be here and not contact him, but I’m sure he knows I’m here, and he could do the same if he wanted (which he won’t), and its time to get completely over him. After all, I’m fairly certain that, if anything good, was to come out of him, it’d be after plenty a headaches, and my head is already aching enough from my hang over and jet lag. Also, the constant back and forth texting with ‘Latin T’ had me concentrating my time on more potentially fruitful investments.

The cab ride took no time. I beat ‘Raindeer’ to his place, but only by a couple minutes. He had a brown paper bag with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. I’m not surprised we’re friend’s. We promptly poured a whiskey coke and started catching up. Cigarettes. Whiskey. Rinse and repeat.

That night, we went to a karaoke bar. It was ridiculously fun. There were some familiar faces from college there. More whiskey. Some somewhat cute hipster sang “What’s My Age Again?”. I briefly fell in love. Cigarettes. One of the girls I knew from college did a stellar performance of “I Just Had Sex”. More whiskey. We left the bar and headed to the next stop.

Whiskey. Cigarettes. A game of pool. A crazy, old, horny woman who was mad at ‘Raindeer’ for having a girlfriend. We didn’t stay long.

On the way home, we stopped for some late night Mexican. Tomorrow I want in-n-out and more rubio’s.