Chantel Williams

In honor of the inauguration the boss and I agreed to open the restaurant a few hours early for local revelers and business owners. The city had every MUNI bus out on the streets by the time I walked pass the bus lot to work; but the Wharf on a whole seemed quiet and undisturbed at 7:00 am. Tourists and some locals (err crazy people) alike were at our front door before we opened at 8:00 am. They stood outside peeking through the windows, staring intensely, looking for a way in. Of course if the paper printed the information correctly we may have no guests to celebrate with. Instead, I was forced to celebrate with a bar full of patrons expecting “continental breakfast for free” instead of the originally agreed upon “Continental Breakfast $15.00.”

I would like to say that President Obama’s comments about the “common goodness” of Americans as a people stopped short at having to pay for breakfast.

A long time ago Dr. B bought a car. I helped him buy this car – a convertible, a red convertible. Soon after the purchase I borrowed the car for the weekend. His only request was that I do not let Luna Love (the dog) in the car.

I had plans to again complete a What I’ve Learned list, 2009 Edition. The Esquire Magazines’ “What I’ve Learned” series being my inspiration.

I find it difficult to quantify what I’ve learned this year into one list. The list would be too long and it wouldn’t make much sense due to the anticipated jumping from one long explanation to another without a care about linear quality, structure and character building. Something similar to the previous sentence; one long jumbled mess of uncooked calamari for brains.

This time last year I was in Portland, it was cold and I was so close to a major burn-out that you could hear the sound of tires screeching ever time I walked into a room. I’ve always had a cooler, darker sound-track in my head as my entrance music. I found it quite disturbing when I started walking around to the sound of broke down Z-28 soundtrack on a skipping record. However foretelling, very disturbing indeed.

I didn’t know that I would move to California. I didn’t know that I would like it so much. Honestly, its been a difficult six months and, some days I still struggle with the adjustment. I love it more days that I don’t. Unfortunately for San Franciscans the rainy season hasn’t started. Lucky for me, I’m basking in more sunshine in one continuous period of time than I ever have in over 25 years. I arrived in July, the rainy season still hasn’t started. I’m sorry California; I just need a bit more time in the sun and then I will do my best rain dance to end your drought.

There are quite a few things I miss about Portland but, there are things I wouldn’t trade for living here. I wouldn’t trade my daily commute to the wharf every morning. My commute where I walk the ten blocks to work down the street to the wharf, along the sidewalks still blanketed in fog. Other days its just sun bouncing off the water on the bay. I wouldn’t trade my roof-top deck with the view of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz. I won’t trade the days where I watch the fog roll in thick then, watch again a few hours later as the fog stops and rolls backward, retreating just as quick as it came in through the suspension cables of the bridge. Those days are just as wonderful as the sunny days.

I would however trade the moments where I receive a text from my 18 year old that reads, “I’m old enough to go to the hookah lounge now.” Some days I think I would trade my left pinky finger for them not being old enough to even know what a hookah lounge is.