To get to the place where I can simply just be, we have to traverse tree-lined suburban avenues whose sidewalks are filled with the names of those who were fortunate enough to be there just as the cement was drying. Before too long, the streets transform to a more urban entity with used book stores and consignment shops and doughnut joints and comic book shops and places that sell records, tapes, and CDs as far as the eye can see. Somewhere amidst this bustling cityscape, an oasis of green presents itself to us. We climb part way up a grassy hill and place our blanket next to an implausibly giant tree. We sit. And we feast. We eat roast beef sandwiches on sourdough rolls from Roma’s Deli in San Bruno and we drink from a bottomless bottle of Dr. Pepper. We listen to an endless mix of Tom Waits (Rain Dogs, Swordfishtrombones, and Mule Variations), Steve Earle (Transcendental Blues and Washington Square Serenade) and Abba (Gold). We watch the unending parade of people playing every game imaginable as the scent of Nag Champa incense wafts by on a barely noticeable breeze. Welcome to my happy place.
Typed on Leannie Oakley
The Adventures of ALS Boy 
Roma’s is part of my happy place too!