To Drink the Wild Air – a Memoir

Last week a Facebook message has worked its way to my absorbing eyeballs.

It read “To Drink the Wild Air Chapter 5, Page 90 – I was enjoying my life to the fullest, and I never, ever rejected an invitation to a good party.  Someone was reading my book and was challenging me.  Hey – it still is a valid statement – and so I spent my Saturday night at a happening, lively, gone viral party which was planned for around 25 people and 100 showed up. I don’t have to elaborate about a roof top party down town San Francisco on a warm winter night,  having drinks in front of an outdoor bonfire and cooling off with a swim in the swimming pool. For me the drinks yes – but swimming –  not my thing anymore.  Techno was blasting, a dance floor was created, free flow of chicken wings, good talks, cool people, the evening was splendid.

As a responsible citizen I decided to go home before 1 AM. The whole city was pumping with Techno music, one party after another, heavy down town traffic jams had to be conquered, especially on Mission Street.  Finally traffic was flowing, it was dark – I saw three dark creatures stepping in front of my car. Cops with a guy in hand cuffs. I slammed my breaks feeling a bright flashlight beam in my face. They had other problems I guessed and kept on going. Already half through the city it hit me like a ton of bricks   “Where is my damn phone “???? Well- it was not with me. I stopped the car- looked for the phone. Fancy people have two phones. Called myself – no ring tone. Phone was gone. Back to the party crossing down town again! Traffic jam, Cops, people in handcuffs and Techno music.

I re-traced all my steps and ended up at  our party again- it was 1. 30 AM. Found the phone under a chair where it slipped out of my pocket. Relieved I left the party a second time. Crossed the city a fourth time, arrived at my house at 2.15 AM. Now it became chili. Too cold for my short sleeves and light jacket. It was a good night  and satisfied with the evening I  put my key into the front door lock– key got stuck , didn’t move and broke !!! The door was closed.  Hmmmm- and now what?

I was sitting on my front steps thinking about Mexico when I forgot my keys one night in the office and had to spend the entire night in my car in front of my apartment building. That was summer in Mexico City and Juan brought some blankets – this is San Francisco in the winter and nobody brought any blankets.

Thank God I found my phone earlier because otherwise my perspectives for that night would have been more than bleak. A Hotel would have been the ultimate solution but preferably I really was interested to get into my own house.  Thanks to Blackberry and the Internet I found a 24 hour locksmith. I was sitting on the front steps for 30 minutes waiting for that guy and freezing my butt off. The moon was shining and the ocean breeze was palpable. 

At  2 AM the sleepy locksmith finally arrived. He put himself to work with a critical look on his face. Only solution was to drill out the lock and put in a new one. This took another 40 minutes. The bill and night service was stiff but it was the inevitable at that moment.  Another lesson for San Francisco. Never leave home  without a sweater !!!!!

Finally at 3 AM I crawled into bed. More than 2 hours after leaving a party only seven  miles from my house…..  So much to another eventful Saturday. It was a great night.