A few years ago I sold and commissioned a machine in Sebastopol, California. Sebastopol is quaint little hippie (mostly) town about an hour north of San Francisco up HWY 101. When I landed in San Francisco, I was told that I qualified for a car rental upgrade of my choice. Jackpot! The weather was beautiful and I scored a nice little convertible coupe! I think it was a Mitsubishi, but it didn't matter -- this was a great little car for going over the Golden Gate bridge and surrounding area in.
If you've ever walked the streets of San Francisco, you know it can be a pretty good workout with many steep hills and a near-infinite number of interesting streets to stroll along. So I zig-zagged my way around for a while stopping every so often for a beer. After a few hours of exploring, I found this nice little Chinese place that had good soup and inexpensive wine. Dinner was still 3 or more hours away and I needed a little snack to tie me over. After soup and a few glasses of cheap wine I went to my room and prepared my clothes (removed tags and stickies, ironed) for dinner.
With the iron still hot and a nice breeze passing through the windows of my old hotel room, I laid back on the bed and BAM!! -- I was out cold!! I never knew what hit me! I was still fully clothed and my shoes were still on. The next thing I know, I hear a car horn from the street down below and my eyes slowly open. The room is dark, but dimly lit by the LED clock on the nightstand. The time? 2:30 a.m. Furgenflasterbaggit! I missed my reservation at Quince by 5 hours!! Fully awakened, I felt terrible -- not just for my loss, but to miss the experience that my nephew so wanted me to have. What an idiot! I grabbed my BlackBerry and texted him: "I'm so sorry. I missed my reservation. Fell soundly asleep. Me = idiot."
All that fresh air driving along the coast in the convertible (I also got up very early that morning), the hiking through the city, the beers, the wine, the time of the reservation -- it was all too much. I just couldn't keep my heavy eyelids open long enough. And that's really too bad, because stumbling around on the Internet, I came across the video below describing Quince's risotto as "perfect."
What a schmuck I (am!) can be, but at least I got some nice, new clothes out of the deal.