On the way home from Filoli, I did not take Bay area rush hour traffic into account. I missed an exit and ended up in downtown San Francisco, just as a Giants game was about to begin. Instead of getting back into the mess, we decided to have dinner in San Francisco and get home late.
SO GLAD WE DID!
We ended up going to one of our family faves, The Franciscan. The water view of Alcatraz, boats, a charming El Salvadoran waiter, seal playing among the gulls, and a roasted crab before me, all made for delightful meal.
We walked Fisherman’s Wharf after dinner to Ghiradelli Square. While Lola was sharing a story, I noticed a woman dressed in pink Pippi-longstalking attire, riding a bike, up the hill, with bubbles flowing out the back of her bike. Just as I was processing what I saw, a bunch of bikes followed her…then a bunch more…then…ummm….was that a guy wearing a geeeee-string?….no, they must be flesh colored tights….no, they’re not…more bikes….a police escort….what in the world is this?…more bikes….GAH, there’s a biker wearing absolutely nothing!…more bikes….now, two women topppp-lessss…really? Well, we are in San Francisco after all. Lola hollered out to the bikers asking what is going on. One biker (fully clothed), pulled over and said it was ‘Critical Mass’, a monthly bike ride on the last Friday of the month. There is no set route or distance. Bikers just ride together. This evening, there had to have been at least 200 bikes.
