Easter Sunday: Hunky Jesus

: Happy Easter; A.’s getting ready for her trip to Alcatraz; we walk in misty rain to Joe’s Café for breakfast before seeing her off on the 1; a taxi cab picks up some Asian seniors, an older lady has trouble getting into the passenger side, “It’s too high!” she says. “I don’t think that door is shut all the way,” A. says. “She better not fall out,” I say; stop for an orange juice and then a coffee; back home T. is on his computer before meeting some friends for brunch; the sun breaks out; rolling A.’s red luggage to the 38 bus stop, buy a bottle of Gnarly Head, Pinot Grigio and a wine opener; need to yell, “Back door, please!” while lumbering with the luggage; the 33 in the Haight picks up stoned kids wearing Cannabis and silver garland crowns, a Liverpool accent, eating Puff chips, “Remember when we were on this bus singing ’99 Bottles of Beer’ and ‘The Wheels on the Bus’! That was so fun!” and “I drank a bottle of acid at home and got on this bus. At every turn I’d raise my hands and go, ‘Yeah!’ I didn’t know where we were. I was all, ‘Where are we GOING?!’ like we were being kidnapped,” a guy says. They are also going to Dolores Park for the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence Easter Celebration; D. finds me, a sea of color, shirtlessness, make-up, Easter hats; C. is there, we drink wine and watch boys dance like the Andrew Sisters, musical numbers, and costumes; a man in a rabbit fur coat with his scrotum pierced; A. finds her way to our little nest of bread, cheese and wine; Hunky Jesus contest, Yoga Jesus, THE Hunky Jesus disrobes to a cheering crowd, and Jesus F@cking Christ who takes it all; we linger before moving to Café Flore; A. and I take an F train downtown to bring her to CalTrain; On 4th we run into R. and a friend of his from high school, wearing rabbit ears; at the train station I watch A. check her ticket and walk to the train, she turns around for a final goodbye and I wave too. As she gets in, I tear up myself; walk to the Hole in the Wall for a beer, a guy approaches, hesitates and walks away, “You have superpowers,” another guy says to me. “You can make people drunk at the snap of a finger.”; meet D. at the Edge, feels like ages to get there; a drunk guy we want to escape from; take the 33 to the 38 and stop at Subway before going home; T. plays Rock Band, the synthesizer, “Space Oddity”; after a shower, I pour myself into bed, thankful for the second pillow.