Fly Balls And Mr. Fang. Day 2: San Fran

My husband is the vacation planner in our family. That surprises you only because I am clearly the bossy one. I would spend too much and buy tickets for absolutely nothing. Vacation in my mind is reading all the books I haven't gotten to, drinking coffee in Starbucks' and sleeping whenever I get tired. Apparently that is boring to some people. So for this trip, we ended up having tickets to two baseball games, a basketball game and concert tickets. Even with all that, my hubby was wanting to know what else I was interested in doing. Saying sleep would not have cut it, so I delayed answering in hopes that I would get a nap in once a day without him noticing. After thirteen years, I should know better.
Day 2: We took BART, which is a fancy way to say subway, to Oakland where we saw an A's game at O.co Stadium. My man knows how to get a deal and today was not exception, we ended up five rows from left field. That left field part is a guess. All I know is that we had great seats and he only paid twenty-five bucks a piece. He caught a fly ball and true to his nature, gave it to the enthusiastic kid in front of us. That's another thing about my hubby, he is a lucky bastard. He wins drawings, bets, and any other human endeavor that requires nothing but shear luck. He said when we sat down that he had a better chance of catching a fly ball than winning the lottery, and two hours later he had a fly ball. I imagine he will win the lottery one day. That lucky son of bitch.
Dinner was a mind blowing experience at Fangs. It was Chinese fusion with Mr. Fang as your personal waiter. On a recommendation from our friend and regular to the restaurant, we didn't even open the menu. The food came out plentiful and beyond delicious. Cold asparagus salad, short ribs, sesame chicken and squash soup. I paired it with a Sapporo beer because I'm on vacation and it proved to be one of the best meals I have eaten. In my life. Perhaps it's a touristy deal. I don't give a fuck. It was fun, yummy and worth the experience.
We wrapped up the night at the top of the Marriott overlooking the financial district and sipping on wine. Well, I guzzled but that doesn't sound as elegant. The cab ride back to our hotel was the universe's attempt to shit all over a great day. Our driver was a complete fucking ass bag and even after my husband kindly attempted to describe the area we were staying, the cabbie took it upon himself to mock my husband and act like he didn't have a clue what we were saying. I'm not sure how, but we managed to make it back to our place without me punching him in the back of the head. Guess he's a lucky bitch, too.