Editor’s note: This is the third installment in Joe Giovannetti’s weeklong diary about his Thanksgiving trip.
8:19 p.m.: Fields makes another joke about a certain group of people that is protected by libel laws. You’ll have to wait for the director’s cut of this diary to read it.
8:43 p.m.: Fields is officially on a roll, he’s burned me about four times in the last five minutes. Unfortunately, all the jokes are unprintable. That’s not my policy; it’s the DA. In my opinion, if you’re reading the Back Page, you want to be offended.
8:47 p.m.: Jon keeps celebrating every Fields joke with a fist pound. He’s like San Diego Chargers quarterback Philip Rivers dancing after every LaDainian Tomlinson touchdown.
8:52 p.m.: It starts raining. Moms always know, I guess. Jon is totally freaked out about the situation because he didn’t bring socks.
9:04 p.m.:
Jon: “Does anyone have any socks?”
Fields: “I’m not even wearing my own socks. They’re my mom’s.”
Jon: “Yeah, I might do that.”
9:36 p.m.: The rain has stopped and we’re almost out the door, but Jon still doesn’t have the right footwear.
Jon: “Ma, do I have any socks here?”
Jon’s mom: “You have a shirt.”
Fields: “There you go, cut up the shirt.”
10:05 p.m.: A cab drops us off at Columbus Street where there are enough bars within walking distance to make it an interesting night. The first place we try is an Irish bar, O’Reilly’s. Jon orders us a round of Irish car bombs. He talks to the bartender – and judging by his accent, I’m guessing his name was Seamus – who says they don’t serve car bombs.
10:10 p.m.: Someone explain to me how and Irish bar can’t serve car bombs. I didn’t even see Guinness on tap. That’s like serving meatloaf on Thanksgiving. We take a shot of Southern Comfort and leave very confused.
10:17 p.m.: We pass by Joe DiMaggio Park in North Beach. Jon makes us stop so he can take a picture of me under the sign while doing his Tony Soprano accent. I doubt that I’m the first to call him a young Tony Soprano.
10:22 p.m.: We finally make it to LaRocca’s to meet a bunch of people from high school. First things first, the three of us each down a car bomb. Screw you O’Reilly’s.
11:17 p.m.: We leave LaRocca’s and, frankly, it was a little weird seeing all those people from high school. You know how in “Back to the Future II,” future Biff gets a hold of the sports almanac and when Marty goes back to the present Hill Valley, it’s distorted with legalized gambling and everything is all messed up. That’s how I feel about going back to San Francisco sometimes.
11:35 p.m.: Person who wishes to remain anonymous: “Is $60 in ones enough?”
Guess where we are?
Day Three: Thursday
9 a.m.: Fields and I wake up and start watching the CBS NFL pregame show. I’m locked in for a solid 10 hours of football. By the way, Fields did keep up his, “Doubling whatever you do” promise. The lack of funds in his checking account should reflect that.
10:57 a.m.: We see a preview for the new Rocky movie. I can’t tell you how outraged I am. Stallone’s 65 and he’s fighting a 20-something-year-old who looks like he’s 6-foot-6. Am I still seeing it? Of course. The guys at Joe DiMaggio Park would never let me live it down if I missed it.
11:07 a.m.: It’s halftime. Fields is headed home and I’m gooing to take a shower. I have to wash the smell of, um, last night off me.
-For past editions of the diary, visit www.thedailyaztec.com.
