A slightly complicated day. I got up early because the hotel staff told me at check-in that the free continental breakfast would be down to half a bag of Sugar Smacks by 8 am. I was elbowed out of the bagel line by a large bearded guy who said his dog was hungry. The dog was hiding inside his backpack and was about half the size of the bagel; it took about four licks of the cream cheese and then went back to sleep. (I sent this story to my boss at the Viva Bread party office and they may be able to use it for one of Mr. Basketry's speeches.)

Having been exiled from bageldom, I tried to grab a banana and some yogurt - which is when I saw the dancer who chased me through Union Square! Either he was staying at the same hotel or he was there looking for me, I don't know, but he was at the front desk scowling about something, and that wasn't a good sign for yours truly. I went back up to my room, listening to KQED with the door double-locked. (It's just as well I did - Talk of the Nation did a piece about recent college grads and the job market. Lots to think about once the campaign is over - like do I want to use my boss, Moonbow James, as a reference?) I spent a little time Googling the dance troupe - turns out their mission is to teach good eating habits through dance. This explains why they got so mad about the cheese doodles I was eating, though I don't remember seeing anything in their performance that would encourage me to eat more vegetables. Except maybe the whole "getting chased around San Francisco" thing.

The coast was clear by midday so I went out for a little fresh air and sightseeing, which is when my car vanished. I parked it on 22nd street in what I thought was a parking spot to stop in a nearby coffeehouse. In retracing my steps, the sign above this parking spot did indeed say "PARKING," but only as part of the phrase "NO PARKING - STEEP DROP." Even this might not have been a problem had I not left the car on and in Drive. At the time I figured the car had been stolen, but it had actually rolled down the hill, spun around a couple times and nearly run over a group of protesters, who were trying to outlaw the manufacture of circus peanuts, or at least give some of the royalties to elephants. Or so the extensive police report told me.

The wisest course of action at this point: to clear out of San Francisco at the crack of dawn, praying that no dancers pursue me on the way to LA.

Now listening to: Sinead O'Connor, "The Last Day Of Our Acquaintance" (chosen by me, not my sarcastic iPod)

(Photo by pengrin)