Since the wireless network was down last night, I got up this morning and did my finances.
Unfortunately, I lost track of time, so I had to skip breakfast and hurry over to the first session...
I attended the Invited Talk: Wireless Security.
The morning break.
I was really hoping that there'd be food available, because my stomach was grumbling. Thankfully, there were assorted pastries available. I scarfed one of every type.
(Hopefully the sugar crash won't hit until after lunch.)
I attended the Invited Talk: Weblogs, Wikis, and RSS for System Administrators.
Rudy, Shlomo and I headed over to the Fashion Valley Mall for lunch.
We had planned to go to Crocodile Cafe again, but since we couldn't get an outdoor table for 3 people, and Rudy wanted to eat outside, Rudy decided to go eat in the food court instead.
Since Shlomo and I were indifferent, I asked Mr. Stopwatch whether Shlomo and I should tag along with Rudy, or else eat at Crocodile Cafe. Mr. Stopwatch said we should eat at Crocodile Cafe. So we did.
I had a lemonade, the spinach artichoke, and the ? salad.
Walking back, we passed the smallest dog I've ever seen.
(I could tell that the dog's owners were used to people asking to take pictures of their dog, because the man turned around when he heard me open the velcro flap of my camera.)
According to Shlomo, these are chrysanthemums. I think he's right, but I'm not sure.
I thought that Segways were dead, but apparantly not.
(Is a somewhat overweight cop riding a Segway really the image San Diego wants to project of itself? I mean, whatever happened to walking through the damn mall? You know, walking the beat?)
Anyway, Shlomo and I headed back. Rudy picked up his laptop in my room (he was charging it there because housekeeping was servicing his room), and we headed over to the next session.
I attended the Invited Talk: Silly Network Management Tricks.
There was a break before the final session (the LISA Game Show), but no goodies were available. Awww...
The LISA game show.
This is just harmless diversion to end the conference. It's played Jeopardy-style, only if you phrase your answer in the form of a question, you are mocked mercilessly.
After the LISA Game Show ended, we all headed back to our (respective) rooms to get ready to head downtown.
Alas, my plans for us to careen from bar to bar like drunken pinballs could not come to fruition, because both Rudy and Shlomo had a 07:30-08 departure flight the next day.
Why the hell did you take such an insanely early
flight? Did you not realize that you'd have to get up at
four-thirty in the fucking morning to catch it?
Yeah, but I didn't want to get back into Pittsburgh
really late at night like you.
First of all, I'm getting in at ten. Second... what does
it matter? You're still going to be spending most
of your day on a plane, no matter what times are
involved.
I wanted to have some time in the evening.
For what? Yawning?
No, I wanted none of that. I'll be getting up at 18:00-08, thankyouverymuch.
But I digress...
The plan was that I'd tag along with Rudy and Shlomo as they ate, and then Shlomo would tag along with me when I ate at Sushi Bar Nippon.
Their first choice, Hard Rock Cafe, was closed for a private function. Although there were many interesting places to eat in the Gaslamp Quarter (for example, I've never had Persian food before), they selected Rock Bottom Brewery. (I had no complaints; I wasn't planning to really eat at the location they picked in any case.)
Our waitress was FIXME. FIXME was friendly. FIXME was cute. Perhaps most significantly, FIXME was wearing a somewhat low-cut top, and helpfully leaned over the table multiple times to help explain things to us. Shlomo approved.
Rudy and I both had the special Chrimstas beer, the FIXME. It
was excellent—far better than anything I've had at the
Pittsburgh Rock Bottom. Since it was around 10% alcohol, I
expected them to serve it in an 8 ounce glass. Nope. That's a
full pint, baby. Rudy had another, which was the house
limit
.
We then asked about the house limit
. Although they would
serve a single person no more than 2 pints of FIXME, they'd be
more than happy to serve that person round after round of any of
their other beers until said preson either passed out or
couldn't pay. So I'm not sure what the hell the limit was
supposed to accomplish (other than making the FIXME seem cool, I
suppose).
Anyway... these were my nachos. The guacamole and the salsa were both excellent.
Rudy had the macaroni and cheese casserole...
...and Shlomo had the strip steak.
The desserts were also excellent. Rudy had the FIXME...
...and Shlomo had the FIXME.
Despite his repeated promises to accompany me to Sushi Bar Nippon, Shlomo decided to bail along with Rudy, and I was unable to convince him to stay.
So, I struck out for Sushi Bar Nippon on my own.
As I was hoping, Sushi Bar Nippon wasn't crowded. (It didn't
strike me as being a party
place.)
The sushi chef who was there on Tuesday was also there tonight. Unlike Tuesday, we really didn't talk much. He did, however, pay me the highest compliment he could have paid: he spoke to me only in Japanese. Granted, I had to ask for one or two words to be translated, and in retrospect I was able to catch several mistakes I made, but I was able to communicate.
(I know most of you reading this probably don't care, but believe me, it's a significant milestone for me.)
My first course was oysters on the half shell. I'm fairly confident that these were Pacific oysters, but I'm not sure what type.
My second course was fluke, I think. (Remember, other than a few select words, the sushi chef wasn't speaking any English.)
I think this was seared bonito. (Bonito is a close cousin of tuna.)
Here's my nigorizake, served in the ます box.
I wasn't sure of the exact protocol for drinking the sake that spilled over into the saucer. What I did was wait until I had mostly finished the sake in the box, then poured the saucer's sake back into it.
Course four: assorted shashimi. Clockwise, from the top: tuna, toro, crab (the real stuff—not krab sticks, mind you), Spanish mackeral, and arctic surf clam in the center.
Actually, I'm not so sure that the toro was actually toro. The taste and fat content seemed right, but it was a lot firmer than most toro I've had.
Round five: crispy hamachi skin, I think. (I'm not sure because the table next to me was a little boisterous, and I was having trouble hearing.)
Round six was a nigirizushi assortment. If you tilt your head slightly to the left, you can see that there are four rows: a row of two on the top, then a row of four, a row of three, and a row of one. So, from top to bottom, and left to right: ikura and uni; toro, fluke, salmon, and red snapper; yellowtail, crab, and flounder. The final (bottom) row is unagi.
When I finished the nigorizake, I ordered some FIXME sake.
(For those of you keeping score at home, that's a pint of 10% alcohol plus two generous servings of a substance equivalent in alcohol content to wine. Easily 4 drinks, in other words.)
Now, I realize that there are many aspects of Japanese culture I don't understand. (That would be most of them, actually.) But this seems strange, even for what I've learned so far.
This picture was located to the left of the toilet in the men's restroom. It was positioned so that it would be the main thing in your field of view if you were sitting.
This picture was located directly above the toilet, so that if you were standing, you'd be looking at the picture, while the picture looked at... well, you know.
Anyway, I gathered up my belongs, sincerely thanked the sushi chef, and stumbled out.
Given that it was already ten, and I was probably more sloshed already than I really needed to be, I decided to call it a night and head back to the hotel.
There was a nice drum ensemble going on the corner of 5th and FIXME. The woman in the black shirt and doo-rag (part of the group) would dance around and encourage random passersby to join her.
I stuck around for about ten minutes or so. In that time, the most impressive participant was an impeccably-groomed Latin-looking guy who pulled off his shirt and twirled it over his head as he danced. Female onlookers howled their approval.
(Sorry, ladies, I don't have a picture of him.)
Unfortunately, I just missed a blue line trolley, so I had to wait until ~22:30-08 for the next one.
Here's a burning question I'd like to answer. It seems to me like people ask me for directions (or other similar assistance) a lot. I can think of two possibilities:
I get asked for directions no more frequently than the average person does, but it seems more frequent to me because the instances tend to stand out in my recollection.
Somehow, completely without my knowledge (or without any
apparant ability to control it), I somehow radiate a vibe
of, Hey, this person knows what he's doing
.
A few years ago, I would've thought the former and thought nothing of it. But honest to God, I'm beginning to wonder if the latter isn't occurring.
Case in point: while waiting for the next blue line trolley, two female SDSU students asked me for directions on how to get back to SDSU. WTF?
(I'm going to taunt Shlomo mercilessly for bailing on me. They had cleavage that could produce echoes, and it looked like it wouldn't take too much for them to fall out of their tops.)
Unfortunately, they got screwed by the same thing that happened to me in 2003: the green line trolley (the one they needed) shortened its service run after 23:00-08, and the SDSU stop was one of the ones that was no longer being serviced. They had to call a friend and have her pick them up at the Qualcomm Stadium stop.
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