I drove out to San Francisco yesterday and spent the night there so as to be ready for court this morning—nothing major at all, just a case management conference, but who wants to face the traffic?
San Francisco is a kind of heaven. Not the boring sort of cotton-wadded hell that they told you about in Sunday school, but a vibrant, living place with lights and style. It is the only city I know, with the possible exception of Boston, that has a personality. Los Angeles has no personality; just plastic surgery. But San Francisco is alive. I consider it proof, by the way, that liberalism is better than conservatism. No sane person would prefer to live in Salt Lake City than San Francisco, notwithstanding the socialism.
I stayed at the Queen Anne, a cute little hyper-Victorian only blocks from the courthouse. Well priced and pleasant, with very pleasant staff and clientele. For dinner I walked down to Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse, a place I’ve long wanted to try. If you haven’t been, I’d recommend it—but bring the credit card you’re sure is paid up. I had petite fillet with shrimp and a side of mashed potatoes; the steak was perfectly cooked medium rare. (I generally find that too precise a specification for the sorts of places I normally eat.) But it set me back sixty bucks. Still, it was nice to finally try the place. One thing I liked was, they took my name down when seating me, and the staff called me by name throughout the evening. Quaint enough, except they used my last name, which as you all know is something of a hobbyhorse with me, and that won my undying gratitude, and secured them a slightly higher tip.
In all, a very pleasant evening, and a smooth day in court.