It's been, what... almost three years? Four?
But I've never had Frisco out of my head.
To have the chance to return, albeit for just twenty-four pathetic hours, pleases me so.
From the BART, to the "boutique" hotel, to the Fisherman's Wharf, to the mid-day beers, to the crab cakes, to my beloved Sausalito, to the ferry ride, to the find-the-shop adventures, to the unbelievable cherry blossoms right next to Victoria Secret, to the fabulous Annabelle's and the even more fabulous orgasm-inducing rare steak.
I think we've done a pretty good job, considering we really have only ten hours to do as much as we can.
I have always adored Frisco, tiny and unassuming as it may be. And I think I might just love it forever.
"Jack-on-the-rocks. Jack-In-The-Box. You must really like Jack, huh."
I think nothing's been left unsaid.
Well, maybe just one, or two. But will it really matter anyway?
Dark chocolate, the flavor of my life remains.
I don't think I will ever forget this day.
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