6 - Ice Cream Amour
San Francisco 1991
After earning my diploma and becoming entranced watching public broadcasting documentaries, I conclude I must migrate even further north to tap the film and television industry. It'll be an even tougher start, but I'll live off credit cards for a few months until I gain experience through internships. At least that's the plan. I’ll scoop ice cream for some extra cash.
Harrison Ford and JJ the delivery guy would work together again some day. (Image -video capture, a Paramount Pictures production)
On my mind - all the youngsters selling 6-figure movie scripts. Jeffrey Jacob Abrams, a fellow Gen-Xer, writes and collects a reported $450k for Regarding Henry starring Harrison Ford.
Critics wonder how a 23-year-old can write with such maturity. Who does this guy JJ think he is? Probably a flash in the pan. I mean I can do that. I'm envious of his financial cushion. He's set for the rest of his writing life. That luxury is my holy grail.
Rent’s due again and Pacific Heights is no bargain sleepover, even with 4 roommates. One of my ice cream colleagues does phone sex on the side. She's from Lenox, Mass. Sara recognizes an occasional Boston accent in me (probably when I'm cursing) and says she makes upwards of $50/hr on the phone.
She plays many roles — obese, busty, ethnic, dominatrix — whatever the caller’s asking for. She’s a Harvard graduate paying off student debt and saving for law school. She won’t last here long. Even on a good night of tips, you walk home with maybe 40 bucks.
Even then, to earn top dollar you have to denigrate yourself. Some lunch rush hours you have to engage with those Rory calls the “yogurt bitches” - the middle-aged housewives in jogging suits who challenge your expertly measured non-fat frozen mixture. “Is that really three ounces? Give me more.” When they're super pushy I recall how I rescued a floating roach inside the cooling machine earlier that day, but only after they’ve eaten a bite or two.
One of the many transformations of Rory’s Ice Cream shop on Fillmore Street — Bun Mee. (Image courtesy of Google Maps Street View)
The Rory’s shop closest to me was on Fillmore street, north of Geary, adjacent mostly to high-end boutiques and shit nobody needs to buy. One of the perks was that every night you could take home a pint of I-scream. I often chose Mud Pie - a silky espresso buzzing treat with pockets of fudge and crushed Oreo. Devoured typically in one sitting.
The mad flavor scientist? Lehua. She's a chain smoker with a Cheshire grin and a platinum flapper bob. Tom Waits weighs heavy on her playlist and she’s known to eat raw garlic for breakfast. We find out recently she’s quit heroin. Who knew? Just don’t quit your day job I say. Keep making that dairy addiction. Love you Lehua.