ObSquirrel and Beerver meet up for lunch near City Hall in San Francisco since it’s a good half-way mark between the Boarfield, where ObSquirrel is a sound engineer, and the Forager Bistro in Hayes Valley where Beerver works as a chef (brewing is not his *only* talent in the kitchen, if he does say so himself). They decide to head to the Herbivore near Civic Center for sandwiches.
ObSquirrel was out late again last night at a show, Beerver can’t remember what the band was called, Aphids twin? He goes on about how they’re small time now but they’re bound to make it big now that they’ve opened for the Flamingo’s Lips.
Beerver cannot understand how ObSquirrel has enough energy for all that. He’s a quiet living kinda guy, just hearing about all this is making him tired.
They swing by Stag’s Coffee on the way back and ObSquirrel invites him out later to go see an indie band playing in someone’s garage in the Mission.
“Doors opens at 9 but they’re probably not going on till like 11:30. The scenes pretty cool, if you’re interested?”
Beerver thinks this might be enough socializing for one day and gratefully declines his friend’s offer. “I’m gonna raincheck, man, but I’ll see ya this weekend.”
“Right on.” Ob bobs his head, man-hugs him, and makes his way back to work.
Beerver sips his coffee. Only 4 years between them, and at moments like this it seems like miles away. “Ugh, I’m gettin’ old...”
He ponders this as he walks down Grove and checks what time the flight from Santa Fe gets in tomorrow....