Tim's Parking Power is Mighty

In other words, the Great Goddess Asphaltina was definitely on our side today.

For the last week, we've been shooting elements for network coverage of the 100th anniversary of the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake. Well, actually, we did quite a bit last week and the week before as well, but this week has been intense and busy and very, very fun.

We started the day at 7 AM, with an interview in Berkeley with the founder and President of Computers & Structures, Inc., Ashraf Habibullah, and looking at amazing computer models of how bridges and buildings in the Bay Area will behave in a large earthquake. Ashraf, in addition to being an engineer, is an amazing still photographer (we geeked about medium format cameras - he has *two* Hasselblads with digital backs and I'm suffering deep camera-envy) and an enthusiastic patron of the arts and co-founded the Diablo Ballet (check out the photo gallery; Ashraf is the photographer). I could have talked with him all day; a fascinating, intelligent, enthusiastic, *joyous* person who loves everything he does.

But we had a date at AT&T Park, and the Giants' home opener, where 102-year-old Violet Lyman, who we interviewed yesterday, and 103-year-old Herbert Hamrol, who we interviewed a couple of weeks ago, joined six other survivors of the '06 Quake in throwing out the first pitches. They both had, as Violet put it, "so much fun!", and we'll no doubt see them again on the day of the anniversary, April 18.

It being Opening Day, however, Tim and I headed to the ballpark early, in the hopes of getting a parking spot less than a mile from the ballpark. For those of you familiar with the area, we were sitting at the red light in the left turn bay on Embarcadero, waiting to turn onto Third St. and the parking lots, when a woman got out of the passenger seat of the car in front of us and approached Tim's window brandishing something orange. Tim thought maybe she was scalping a ticket, and opened his window to politely decline when she said, "My husband said I should ask you if you wanted a parking pass. We have two and we can only use one."

Um...



This is the parking lot closest to the ballpark.

Tim and I were both too taken aback to thank her properly, and they disappeared into the depths of Parking Lot A never to be seen again. I think we're *still* too taken aback to thank her properly.

But it didn't end there, oh, no.

After the pig fuck rather crowded conditions in the press corps characteristic of the home opener, our intrepid correspondent, George Lewis, bought us a lovely lunch at the Acme Chophouse, the restaurant attached to the ballpark, where we watched the first five innings of the game on the television and feasted on a gorgeous cheese and beet appetizer and I had a perfect Dungeness crab salad, with a dessert of organic pumpkin custard brulée (oh. my. god.).

And the Giants, ultimately, won the game, 6-4.

Then, upward and onward, to Chinatown to shoot the first of George's standups.

San Francisco's Chinatown is the largest outside of Asia, but its streets, especially the most scenic (and therefore the most desirable for our purposes), are narrow and crowded, and a free parking space is as rare as feathers on a lizard. We needed a parking space in a spot next to where George wanted to do his standup because we needed to light George, and we can run lights from an inverter plugged into the truck. Any other day of our lives there would be no way we'd manage to find a parking spot *in* Chinatown, much less in the exact spot we needed it.

Except for today.

Granted, Tim was originally parked in a yellow zone, spilling into a red zone, and the 4 PM tow trucks were gathering up the hill. But, miracle of all miracles, a van pulled out of the space right at the corner where George wanted to be, and Tim cut to the chase by backing up, through a red light, in the wrong direction on a one-way street, and grabbed the space.

Two Chinese gentlemen applauded, whistled and cheered, declaring, "Now *that's* the way you do it here!!"

Four quarters in the meter and 30 minutes later and Standup #1 was in the can.

George wanted to do the second standup at the cable car turnaround at Hyde St., and so off we went to the most touristy section of town. Fisherman's Wharf is nearby, and Ghirardelli Square is right there.

In other words, another parking nightmare.

But, and you know what's coming, there was a single space within a four-block radius of the turnaround, and it happened to be right across the street, in front of the Buena Vista Café. Tim and I took it as a sign, and after we got three stunning takes of George doing his standup as laden cable cars moved smoothly through the background of the shot, we bid him and his producer a fond farewell and stopped at the Buena Vista for a drink before heading home. Okay, two drinks, it had been a long day.

I was going to complain about a few things, but, you know, after reading this, I think I'll let the complaints stay with the bitch session Tim and I had on our way home, and simply bask in the contentment of having been Victorious Parking Warriors today. I suspect it'll never be that good again. And I'm wiped out. After too many months covering trials and doing nothing but sit in a chair mixing hourly live shots, I've gotten soft, and a day spent with the gear strapped to my body, running around the streets of San Francisco has left me wanting nothing more than a hot bath and a soft bed.