Long Glamorous Goodbye to Mummy: THE HOLLYWOOD ODYSSEY

The next morning we hopped on Rt. 101 and drove into San Fran. We checked into the Ritz for our night of Luxury.

Everything about the Ritz screams “FIRST CLASS!” It looks like the Metropolitan Museum. The flowers are beautiful, the chandeliers are beautiful, the rugs are beautiful, the furniture is amazing ,and the staff is obsequious. Our breakfast cost sixty dollars. I was off my raw vegan diet and heavy into the hollandaise.

We had a tour of the city led by Malcom. Malcom took a special interest in Mummy, and showed her Alcatraz, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Tenderloin, Haight Ashberry and a spectacular view of the whole city.

We had tea at a little outdoor café. Malcom is my new friend. He loves music, especially the music of Mastro Don Carlo Gesualdo, an Italian prince born in 1560. Gesualdo was a murderer and a madman who had his servants whip him every day when he “sat to stool.” Remind me to include this in my Free Online Creativity Workshop blog. Gesualdo’s music is awesome. It’s about the descent of the soul into oblivion. Of course Gesualdo was so far ahead of his time he had to self publish. Genius is bad for business.

Malcom gushed,

“I love my job! I love showing off San Francisco!”

A SECRET SPOT that I CAN”T TELL YOU ABOUT

We finished our tour in a secret spot where fishermen keep their boats under the Golden Gate Bridge. We watched the sun set and the Golden Gate blushed crimson. Malcom took a picture of us but it didn't come out. It's too dark to see the effect of the dying sun on the bridge. But what a beautiful memory.

When we got back to the Ritz we had to run out to dinner. The Big Four at the Huntington Hotel on Nob Hill is an old style classic restaurant.

We wanted to be close to the piano so they set up a table for us right next to it. The piano player was a sem- young blond gentleman. He played American standards in a florid style. We don’t have too many places where you can hear that kind of piano in New York City. The real estate is too precious. They pulled the piano out of Bobby Vans, they pulled the piano out of One Fifth Avenue, and they yanked the piano out of Ferros. Background piano is a dying art form.


There were many elegant people at the bar. One man was dressed in the Daddy style. Another man kept coming over to our table. He was a designer and interior decorator. He said,

“I am creative.”

Mummy said,

“So am I”

He said,

“I hated to retire. I loved my job.”

Mummy said,

“That’s what I say.”


He said, “When are you leaving? “

I said “Tomorrow.”

He turned to Mummy and said,

“You’re not leaving!”

But we did leave.

ANOTHER MIRACLE

At 4:30 AM I went to get the car in the parking garage. The concierge gave me the official RITZ CARLTON directions to the airport. As I drove I was thanking G*d for looking after us, and for keeping us from harm, and above all for helping me find my way to the San Francisco airport. I saw the sign: San Francisco Airport. I was overjoyed. But I had to return the car. I saw another sign that said,

“Return rental cars here.”

I took the exit. I soon found myself on a freeway going in the wrong direction – hurtling toward an unknown world. It was pitch black. I thought, “This can’t be right.” I took another exit.

A thick fog had settled in the redwood forest. It was swirling around the Ford Focus. Trees seemed to be reaching out their branches to ensnare us and make us late for the plane. Our departure was at 8 AM. I was screwed.

I found myself in the largely unpopulated Diablo mountain range, ancestral home of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe. It was now about 6:45 AM. We were going to miss our plane.

I drove for 15 minutes without seeing a car, a house, a sign or an exit. Suddenly, I saw a man in a white pickup truck. He was a Native American man. I rolled down the window. With tears in my eyes, I said,

“I am completely lost. This is my mother. I have to get her to the airport.”

He said,

“Follow me.”

Mummy said,
“How can you trust him.”

I said,

“He is an Indian.”


He turned his pickup truck around. He led us up Rt. 280 for 20 minutes and then down Rt. 101 for 20 minutes and pointed out the exit with his hand as he drove off. How can I ever thank him? If you see this man please thank him for me!

Mitekuye Oyasin!


We made the plane.