Pleasanton. I checked in last night at the Best Western Plus and dined on a Nation's Giant hamburger, which fortunately was right next to the hotel, making for the perfect first night dinner in California. The booths inside the Nation's were blocked with stools and tapes. One had to lean over a table to insert one's card in the chip reader. This was in addition the plexiglass barrier at the counter. I could see the folks running the restaurant were under a lot of stress. They had mixed up many to-go orders. I tried to be helpful with one customer who didn't hear the name called out.
I was glad to finally get my burger, along with a quarter of a pecan pie, because you have to buy some at Nation's too, and headed back to my room. I ate the pecan pie with the paper-wood fork they gave me. But at least they could still give me a paper sack to put all of the items in. The Asian guy at the gas station convenience store across the street had been able to give me only a paper sack. "Oh, yes, paper sack." I said, cheerfully through my mast. "I'm in California now."
"I miss plastic," the man said to me, with a tone of nostalgia.
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