A long drive, dinner, and a night at the Eagle in the City by the Bay.

22 March 2024

A tumultuous commute punctuated by a slow, steady crawl into the City; nestled in fog, it was a forest of spires as columns of light served as beacons for the traffic-troubled traveler. I rode a river of red lights to the streets so glazed with rain that they shone like sheets of glass. I took a moment to regard the scene before me, realizing again that this, as my Dad says, is my second home.

Reaching the homestead following a series of turns and climbs, I found myself grateful to be still, warm, and dry. Lugging my case up the series of stairs was a welcome change after a two-hour sitting session, though I creaked, I was happy to be moving once again.

Dad had prepared a dinner of pork chops, Japanese sweet potatoes, and steamed artichoke. He’d also run out and searched for A.1. steak sauce because I do enjoy chops with it. We sat in the dining room, two souls seeking sustenance as the Heavens poured their fortune upon the evening streets. Outside the bay window, a plane’s lights silently crossed the blackened sky, gliding over more lights on the hills.

We geared up and headed to the Eagle for Cigar Time. Dad dressed handsomely in boots, Leather jeans, a black t-shirt, jacket, and Muir cap. I dressed similarly save for a classic X chest harness instead of a t-shirt. Decked in Leather, we set boots onto the wet concrete, our boot falls echoing up and through the near-silent, home-lined street.

The Eagle is a humble place, I’ve grown accustomed and fond of nearly everything about it. Entering is like stepping onto a stage sometimes as folx turn to look at who’s just arrived. Dad and I usually b-line to the back doors leading to the patio, taking our perch on the raised platform area so we can survey the scene while I strike up a cigar.

Tonight was different. The wet weather had condensed the denizens of the patio to clusters huddled beneath heaters near the doors. The platform we frequented, though covered, was wet in a way that would’ve been made drinking and smoking difficult. We found stools, dried them off, and set up at one of the bar tables below.

Tonight was TomXL, a Leather-themed event inspired by the famous Tom of Finland, that debuted last month. Well-attended last month, it was another story tonight though I’m sure the Leather would’ve been plentiful had it not been for the rain. We sat and talked, I smoked and silently regarded the clouded night sky at times. Conversation ranged from the week’s events to Clive Barker to Mary Magdalene to the sometimes woo-woo wilds of Utah. My Dad, lit in the red lights of the Eagle, was hunky, handsome. His stubbled jaw jutting from beneath his cap has always given me a bit of a shiver.

As the evening progressed, the rain stopped and Eagle crowd grew in size and noise. By that time, my cigar had begun a stubborn game of going out, forcing me to try to rekindle a flame that had apparently long since died out. Eventually, I gave in. Besides, I was tired and there were things I wanted to do with Dad before we closed the doors on the night.