San Francisco was wonderful. The sis and I had fun, did much chatting and shopping and the drinking of the dirty martinis.
However, the train back to Fresno, full of the whiny little old ladies and drunken uncouth Raiders fans, is not something you should attempt with a hangover.
Suprisingly, (and thankfully) nobody was killed. Not the kid behind me who kept kicking my seat. Not the stringy little old ladies who were making rude comments about everyone else in their vicinity (except me, I have to admit. For some scary reason, I seemed to meet with their deranged approval.) Not even the 500 lb. guy in the Jerry Rice jersey with GO RAIDERS painted across his face, who kept asking me questions about the scarf I was painting and staring at me creepily in the reflection of the train window.
I think this reflects admirable restraint on my part.
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