My Trip To Peir 39

Last weekend my dad came up to visit me from L.A. He brought a new friend with him. Her name was Bubbles. I asked Dad where Mom was. He said, “She’s probably out turning tricks.” I thought that was strange, Mom doesn’t even like magic. Dad said Bubbles was in movies, but I’d never heard of any of them. Dad said he had some of them in his collection at home. I asked Bubbles where she and Dad were staying. Dad laughed and went to get his stuff from the car. I suggested that we all go into the City to Pier 39 that afternoon because I’d never been. Bubbles pointed out that there were only two seats in Dad’s car and there were three of us. After about a minute she concluded that there weren’t enough seats. Dad said, “No problem, we’ll just throw the boy in the trunk.” I snickered, sometimes Dad’s pretty funny. Then he put me in the trunk. I told Dad I didn’t think there was enough air for me to breathe. He said I’d be fine and I should stop banging around, because he couldn’t hear the radio. Dad was right– there was enough air; he’s pretty smart about things like that, besides he opened the trunk at the toll booth to borrow a dollar.

When we stopped Dad opened the trunk for me. I was surprised that it was dark out; the trip hadn’t seemed that long, but then again, I’d blacked out. I mentioned it to Dad and he explained that Bubbles was hungry so they had stopped for lunch and done some shopping. Bubbles showed me some things she bought. They were pretty nice. We were parked in front of a place called the Pink-a-boo Theater. Dad said, ‘My boy’s 18, I think it’s about time he became a man.”Actually, I’m 21 and I’ve even started shaving. Bubbles didn’t want to go in. She said she’d wait in the car. I think she was angry. Dad and I went in and sat down. There were a lot of naked ladies inside. It reminded me of Berkeley, only these women were pretty and didn’t have short hair. I’ said, “Dad, these ladies don’t have any clothes on.” Dad said, “Shut up and give me a dollar.” Dad did a lot of whistling and gave most of my money to the naked ladies. Finally, we were thrown out of the Pink-a-boo Theater, because Dad poured his beer on a waitress and shouted, “Wet T-shirt contest! Our first contestant gets a 9.5!”

When we got outside the car was gone. I was afraid it might have been stolen. Dad yelled out, ‘That lousy slut!” and kicked a trash can. He tried not to show it, but I could see he was worried about Bubbles. Dad and I had to take the BART back to Berkeley. Dad got in trouble for jumping the fare gates. He told the BART guy that he was in a hurry to get his sick son to the doctor. I said, “I feel fine, Dad.” Dad went to pat me on the head but accidentally knocked me down. We went over to the ticket machine. Dad said, “I’ll be God damned if I’m going to pay $2.65 to ride this lousy bumper-car.” I explained that the BART system is a very effective means of public transportation and the money we pay for a ticket is essential to the system’s up-keep and daily functioning. Dad said, “Shut, up.” I bought two tickets and we took the BART home.

When we got back, Dad’s car was outside my apartment. I waited outside while Dad and Bubbles had a discussion. When I came in, some of my furniture was broken and Bubbles was crying. That night I slept on the couch . I don’t think Dad and Bubbles got much sleep. They sure made a lot of noise. In the morning Dad came out laughing and said, “I’d be sure to wash those sheets if I were you” and Bubbles started giggling. Dad asked if he could borrow money to get some beer. Unfortunately, all of my money, including that month’s rent, had gone to pay for new clothes and the ladies at the Pink-a-Boo Theater. Dad said, “Looks like this well’s run dry.” He and Bubbles packed their things and left. Anyway, it was nice of Dad to take time out to visit me. I heard that they serve clam chowder in a bowl made of bread at Pier 39. That sounds really good.