Last dinner in SF (for a week) was a Märzen burger and an ale at Gordon Biersch with Tim, Sarah, and Alex. The burger was less exotic than the description implied, but was okay. For the first time, a waiter told me the cook wouldn't do medium rare and guided me to medium; ironically, Sarah's steak slices came out so raw that she had to send it back (another first). Okay food but it was fun -- we talked camping and books and our upcoming meeting for a wedding in Chicago. Once eight rolled around, though, it was time to haul my luggage out of its nook and roll it off to Oakland Airport. (It wouldn't have been there had I realized I wasn't going to SFO, but that mistake was corrected in time, luckily.)