P-Mac

I never saw myself retiring from the Air Force, and I damned sure never imagined Perry doing it either. The guy currently drawing a retirement paycheck from the U.S. Government is the same guy that stood up in Arnold Hall circa 1994 and asked if it was O.K. to have both his nipples pierced.

Arnold Hall is a 3,000 seat venue used for many things including world class concerts, shows and events for cadets and the public at large.  For the general public it's a terrific place to see an intimate show.  For cadets it's a place to A.) get yelled at  B.) fall asleep or C.) both.

As basic cadets we flooded the theater in a giant horde at the end of each day to be told we sucked ass that day or we were doing great.  Inevitably it turned into a pep rally with us waving our caps and shouting "Keep The Pride '95".  This scenario was great for getting things off your chest in a passive aggressive way by shouting subversive things like "you're a douche" or "lick my b*lls" at the cadre.  They couldn't hear us, we looked enthusiastic, so it didn't matter.  We felt better, though.  In the end we didn't care what they said, we looked at it as a way to try and nod off for a few blissful moments.

As upperclassmen, Arnold Hall represented hours and hours of torture in the form of briefings.  The speakers might range from a 4 star general to the Cadet Wing Commander covering any array of topics pertinent to the Air Force.  It was during one of these cadet briefings that Perry had his shining moment.

Out in front of the Irish Bank

In 1994 tattoos and piercings were much less common than they are today and the regulations were somewhat unclear on what was allowed.  Perry came back to the dorms one weekend with both nipples pierced and was unclear on whether he had violated regulations.  Like any good rule follower, Perry stood up in Arnold Hall in front of the entire class of 1995 and asked "theoretically" if it was OK to have dual nipple piercings.   In perfect cadet fashion the Wing Commander responded, "Maybe you shouldn't be here".  This response is the reason we liked to shout "You're a douche" as basic cadets.  Hilarious, douchey cadet, but you didn't answer the question.  Perry had the last laugh, however.

P-Mac telling his story at Vesuvio cafe a haven for beat poets back in the day including Jack Kerouac

Fast forward about 20 years to present day San Francisco and I get a message from Perry telling me he's attending the San Francisco Academy Of Art on the G.I. Bill.   I'm pretty sure he's kidding so we agree to meet up in SF and hang out.  We sit down and go over the details over a few beers and it turns out he's not lying about the G.I. Bill.  In an effort to recruit and maintain personnel after 9/11, the government beefed up the G.I. Bill as an incentive.  As a result,  Perry's tuition is fully paid and he is getting a substantial living expense (in addition to his retirement pay).  I think it might be the greatest legal scam I've ever heard of.   He got over, and I love it.   It helps me with the chip on my shoulder that was put there 25 years ago by a senatorial panel that said I wasn't "Academy material".   In honor of Perry's achievement I sit here at my desk, gold trucker hat in hand, gently swaying, and chant "You're a douche" to all those who told us we wouldn't make it or shouldn't have been there.

Our waiter at Original Joe's.  I highly recommend the burgers at this place.

Earl Thomas at Biscuits and Blues. I've never seen a bad show here.  World class musicians at a small venue.

My Travel Partner

This was taken at the (insert SF neighborhood) place where we ate the truffle pasta

Most of the places we go are Nikki's idea.  If I made the decisions we would only see the inside of the local Irish pub.  Sometimes on my birthday we spend the whole time going from one Irish pub to another, and it's great.  For me.  Nikki has broader ambitions than to smell farts and eat dirt encrusted peanuts in various locales (coupled with a Guinness!).  I don't get it, but I indulge her suggestions.

Typically when she suggests a place, I roll my eyes and ask, "Really?"  "Are you sure?"  There's never a reason for this other than to post the opening protest like a flag in the ground.  The negotiation now has a starting point.  This way, when I later concede, I will be perceived as the compromiser.  I don't think she reads these things, so she'll never know.

She's a little more sophisticated in her choices than I am.  She like wineries and fine food with a touch of class.  She does a lot of research and thinking about where we should go.  It's never last moment.  It's nice because the choices are 90% good (a 10%er is the Rock Wall Winery in Alameda where the wine tasted like wet dish sponge).  The bad part is that her choices involve intricate ties to past events which means I get asked about them in the course of trying to decide where to go this weekend.  Example:

Nikki:  I was thinking about going to Rock Wall this weekend.

Me:  Really?  Are you sure? (see above).

Nikki: Yes, don't you remember the time when we ate at that pizza place in Half Moon Bay and they served us the Rock Wall, it was the last bottle they had and we loved it?

Me:  (mind furiously racing, trying to recall something, anything, resembling what she just described.  Nothing!)  Of course, that was great time.  We should definitely go to Rock Wall.

I'm sure I got the details above wrong.

We've rarely had a downright terrible experience, though.  The closest we've come to "bad" is having over-saturated truffle pasta while sitting next to a table full of spoiled kids, the kind who demand their parents do something, and the parents acquiesce.  Of course, I can't remember the name of the place, but I know it was in some small sub-section of a San Francisco neighborhood.

* It seems there are at least 1,500 different neighborhoods in the SF area.  Asking me if I remember the time we ate the delicious meal in Noe Valley is not effective.  Ask me about a cheeseburger, though, and it's highly likely I can tell you the street name.

Sometimes we bicker in the car, but it's never serious.  It's usually some variation of me planting the flag and asking "Are You Sure, there's an Irish Pub right down the street?"  

The fact of the matter is that she makes excellent choices.  We always have fun, and I always get to shoot a few photos.  Despite all of my complaints there's nobody else I would rather have these experiences with.  She's my travel partner.

Etude Winery in Napa. I made her take a break from wine tasting to go to this back area for a quick photo.

Dragon Rouge in Alameda.  Excellent Vietnamese food.

Beef wrapped mango at the Dragon Rouge.  Really, truly awesome.

Spring Rolls at Dragon Rouge

Rocker at Squaw Valley. Can you tell who's choice this was?

Achadinha cheese company in Petaluma.  This is the Donna Pacheco (no relation).  Here I confirmed my last name is pronounced PAW-SHAY-KO.  The name of the company is pronounced AW-SHUH-DEEN-YA

Achadinha cheese maker.  There are 600 head of goats right there on the farm.  We got to sample cheese with an aroma of goat shit lingering in the air.   

Landon Is Drunk Brian

I've heard Brian and Amy say their youngest son Landon is like drunk Brian.  Apparently he's pretty mischievous and displays behaviors you might expect to see from a drunk 40 year old at a winery.  I've never witnessed the kid acting like that, but I've seen his dad do it a couple times and it's always good for a laugh.

Over the weekend we all headed up North to Coppola Winery for a tour and dinner.  We're members there and have occasion to eat and taste wine several times. The food and wine are excellent but the best part may be the resort atmosphere.  On the grounds is a large pool where reservations must be made in advance.  It's the only winery in the valley with a pool.  Now, I don't really care about that, but apparently some people like to swim.  What I do like, however, are the two full service bars, one located outside in a tikki hut style surrounding, and the other indoors for when it gets too hot.   Having a full service bar is unusual for a winery, let alone two.  I enjoy wine tasting, but I'm usually good after about 15 minutes, which makes the bar even more enticing.  While Nikki and Amy set about trying to taste all 15 varietals, I took Brian over to the bar to explore the differences and subtle nuances of bourbon/whiskey/scotch.

Brian is still in the infantile stages of bourbon tasting, so he corrupted a perfectly good Jameson with ginger ale.  On the second one, though, he got the soda on the side and actually tried it straight.  His face puckered up immediately.  He still needs some work.  I had a couple of Blanton's, which has become my favorite, recently surpassing Woodford Reserve at the top of my list.  I'm no expert, but I'm trying to learn and experience more.

As such, we got into a conversation about the differences between Kentucky Straight Bourbon, Scotch, and Irish Whiskey.  There are legal definitions for all three and we were researching the differences when the Bro next to us at the bar chimed in (unsolicited), "It has to be aged in Oak, that's about all I know".   Thank god we got that information out of him.  Useful.

Which leads me down another road.  Bars used to be a place where you could go to brag and tell tall tales about any manner of things and not be found out, at least not while you were there.  The advent of smart phones, however, has eliminated that aspect of the communal gathering.  I'm not sure if it's good or bad, but I'm leaning towards bad.  It's generally fun to listen to people who are full of shit, which this guy definitely was.  Another point:  Why do people feel the need to chime in about things they know absolutely nothing about?  I've always been fascinated by that.

Unbeknownst to me, Brian was slowly transforming into Landon.  The bourbon began to take it's toll and by the end of dinner, Brian was off and running.  Literally.  He ran down into the vineyard clearing, ready to show himself in his most childlike state, which he did eventually.  Out of respect, I have agreed not to show the final act, but you might imagine what came next.   It was good for a laugh.

I think the winery will still have us back unless there is videotape of the general area, in which case it might all be over.  Although, in reality, he showed much less skin that what I saw at the pool.  And less offensive in many cases.

Cheers!

Brian in a moment of repose, imbibing his first Bourbon.  He has not yet become Landon.

Nikki and Amy.  Brian is running, behind them, down to the clearing.

The inside bar.  The bro with the shades on his head provided us with invaluable information.

The bartender actually knew what he was talking about in regards to bourbon.  That's a Blanton's on the left.  Note to self: Try "Hooker's House" bourbon, a Sonoma County spirit.

Brian in the clearing, waiting for the right moment to unleash the albino moon.

I believe this is a neoclassical Roman pose.