My beautiful hostess smiled with glee when I arrived, as we already, in the preferred method of the young and the Asian alike, texted. We connected.
The coffee was strong, hot and flavorful, the mimosa large and concentrated. Their famed “millionaire bacon” was intense but too much pork fat for me. I gnawed away anyway.
When the Seafood Pajun, arrived (a Korean style pancake with seafood, scallion, onion, bell pepper, jalapenos), the caste iron pan was so hot, I simply had to watch it sizzle for a while, giving me time to approach my method of attack to devour it. Half is all I could do, and I took the rest for dinner tonight, saving me the agony of shopping on a tourist night.
I stopped at a “No Parking” zone to take the shot below, as did a dozen others. Then things got remote, with a hundred potential stopping points and light traffic.
I stopped to watch, in awe, these parachute surfers. I can’t imagine their level of skill, and my lack of it.
I could not get close enough to capture the adrenalin with a telephoto, but it was there.
I am now home safe and looking forward to my three free gourmet meals weekly at my client’s site. Back to work.
I am wondering if the addicted homeless dude living in the alley below my $300 a night hotel room is back at his home?
