There it was, Saturday afternoon and we’re zooming down I5 from Davis to Stockton to the Pastel Show, and we realize we want to go to dinner after, and haven’t any idea of where to eat.
I know! Jerry Chamberlin used to live in Stockton, let’s call him.
Don’t have his phone number.
I know! I’ll call Mike, he’ll have the number. Micky isn’t home, isn’t answering his cell.
I know! Call Rippey, he plays with Jerry. Rippey is carousing in Vegas, not answering.
I know! Call Barbara Hanson, she has the number. That worked, sort of. We get the home number, but nobody is home. Gail leaves a message.
Winnie calls back–she gives us Jerry’s cell number
We call Jerry, finally. He says he’ll call his sister.
Jerry calls the sister, she gives him the best place in town. He texts us with the name.
I go on Opentable.com and make a reservation at Le Bistro, the best, and only, French restaurant in Stockton.
We have a decent dinner, with service that can only be considered unique to the central valley. Our waiter is both gay and redneck, the combination is irresistible. My monkfish was excellent, the rib eye steaks were to die for.
So from Barbara to Winnie to Jerry to his sister to us, we worked the phones, used our friendships and ended up with a fun dinner. Thanks, everyone.