(no subject)

OK. Currently 2:45am, and I've just arrived home. I left San Francisco at approximately 11:45am. At this time of night, the drive should be about 15 minutes. That story will come later....

William did not, indeed, show up to class, so after I passed around his note so that everyone could read it (apparently no one except me checks their mailbox; perhaps it's pigeon-hole conditioning, or something), we left exceeding early. Since I was going to go to SF this evening anyway, thanks to psychopepsquad's invitation, I thought I'd take the chance to go and see the Matrix: Reloaded on an IMAX screen, which is something I'd been wanting to do. I adore IMAX.

Anyway, I did indeed make it to SF in time to see the film, but it was a bit disappointing. It was fairly identical to seeing it on a normal screen, except the sound was a bit better and the picture was bigger. This is because they didn't actually have a different reel of the film for IMAX, and hence it was in letterbox format and the IMAX screen was completely wasted on it. The previews, on the other hand, were really cool, especially the one for Winged Migration. The other was for Bugs!, which also looked quite cool. Sponsored by Terminix. Go figure. ;)

There were advantages to going to the movie, too, however. 1) Loews Entertainment Center and Cineplex is really cool. And the top floor is themed for stuff by Maurice Sendak, things like "Where the Wild Things Are" and "In the Night Kitchen." And it's just a very pretty building, generally. And there was also something that made me highly nostalgic. When I got my ticket, I was given a little flyer for some website where I could register and possibly win a free ticket to something or other. But I was supposed to use the number on my ticket stub to register. And having a number on my ticket reminded me of going to all those films one summer when I was about five or six, with Anna Daisy, films like the story of Hans Christen Andersen and The Secret Garden. Because we had numbers on those tickets, and there was always a raffle drawing before the film. Not that I ever won anything, but that's obviously not the association.

After the film (grr, my 'r' key is sticking), I went over to Jezebel's Joint, where psychopepsquad bartends. I had four drinks: a burnt orange chocolate martini, a white Russian, a Manhattan and a mudslide. I'm used to mudslides being blended with ice, though, so that one was a bit different. I'd never had either of the first two. There was a guy there named Rob who was quite nice, but also got a bit sozzled and took a slightly annoying fancy to me. I danced with him, but after I'd had all the drinks, which sadly shook my stomach up a bit. I started feeling tired at 11-something and got vaguely fed up with Rob, so once I felt good to drive, I headed home.

And here comes the "exciting" part of the tale, for which read "really annoying and only pretend adventuresome."

I headed towards the Bay Bridge, only to find that there was a police car blocking it. Fine; I went to the next exit. Same story. So I drove alongside the freeway for a while, and tried again. Still no luck, so I asked the policeman what was going on. "The Bay Bridge is closed," he said. "What, so you mean I can't get home?" I asked. "Basically, yeah," said he. He told me there were traffic updates on 740AM, so I tuned to that, and pulled over to the curb somewhere and did my German homework and listened to the radio. Once I was done with that, there was purportedly still no clearance of the Bay Bridge. What had happened, apparently, was that a furniture truck on the bridge's lower level somehow had burst into flames, flames which nearly reached the upper level of the bridge. Hence, no traffic allowed. So I decided I'd try going north and across on the Richmond Bridge. Except everyone had that idea, apparently; the Golden Gate Bridge and the 101 were smooth sailing, but just around Larkspur, the traffic suddenly came to a dead halt. At which point, since I wasn't actually having to pay attention to anything, I started drowsing at the wheel. Which I noticed, and "woke" up, and then woke up again. Oops. And eventually, paying definite attention to the cars in front of me and the fact that we weren't moving anywhere and I wonder if I can do anything about this, maybe there's a different route, felt my car bump lightly against the car in front of me, which was a lot closer than it had been. This, of course, woke me up very quickly. And still the traffic didn't move. The same sequence of events happened once more, except this time I bumped the car a bit harder, at which point I decided that every time I stopped rolling forward a bit, I should probably put on the parking brake. And then, just before I actually got to the Richmond Bridge ramp, I got sick of waiting in line, having heard on the radio that the Bay Bridge was now open. So I turned off and went twenty or so minutes back the other way, and paid the $5 toll to cross the Golden Gate Bridge. Which sucks. Toll should not be $5. Especially when the toll on every single other bridge is only $2. Bloody tourists, raising our tolls. Anyway.

There were practically no cars on the Bay Bridge, however, so this was a blessing. They were, instead, all at the Richmond Bridge, as I can confirm. So I got home, and now I'm home. And I've been listening to Queen and Kingston Trio in the car. Hooray.