It felt as though we were all driving somewhat blindly back to the city from Pleasanton after spending the day basically in vigil at Slim's brother's house, saying goodbye and sharing stories and so on. The five of us ended up by our hotel in Union Square, badly needing drinks and a quiet place to sit. We were in front of the St. Francis and with very little conversation ended up walking through the doors and sitting at the bar in Micahel Mina. I think I used the men's room.
This is such a lovely hotel. The hotel is so old school, reminds me a fair amount of New York's Waldorf Astoria, but maybe a hair more well maintained. The modernity of the Michael Mina establishment look completely out of place in the lobby, but the St. Francis and I go way back so I am biased. At any rate there were five seats at the bar for our collective behinds and we sat.
Looking through the bar, back into the restaurant. I have to add, our bartender was incredibly useless and kind of an ass. But the sommelier was kind, gentle and firm and suggested a beautiful bottle of bubbly to soothe our aching hearts. And we ate cheese.
Cheese from a sheep's milk.
We drank, we snacked and we left. We were drinking and toasting to our dear and much beloved friend Slim, at nearly precisely the moment he passed away. 1 am, November 2. 2008.
RIP, my friend,