Spent a little time up on the Nob.

Hill.

Chill, Brent.

I'm usually down in the Tender-Nob (again, quit your snorting), but the Monaco was booked, I'm a bit bored of the Adagio, and the Mark Hopkins, one of my favorite properties in the Bay Area, happened to have availability. So I was at the top of the Mark, top of the Hill, on a bright, sunny Tuesday in San Fran. Ate some Chinese food, visited with some friends, blew out my knees on the hill, and reminded myself once again why I probably should give serious consideration to a semi-permanent relocation.

I took an hour this morning to wander around with my camera in search of a coffee shop (I finally found Isabella's), and took a few shots. I would have had better light except it took me nearly 40 minutes to get out of the hotel this morning as we had very special guests at the property. And these guests required a whole lot of very heavily armed guards and traffic control and elevator closures and large men with earpieces who were more than happy to scare the ever-living shit out of San Francisco's hapless, iPod sporting cyclists (cyclists accustomed to ignoring cops and traffic signals and parked cars) when they attempt ride right through a secret service blockade.

I didn't care. It's not every week that you get to hang out with the first family. And by hang out I mean, sleep in the same building as.

I was instructed to tell Michelle "I love you" on behalf of at least three good friends, and one specifically asked me to give her a hug.

Somehow, after watching the response to that cyclist, I'm pretty sure that if I did get that close to her, a hug would have been DEFINITELY out of the question.