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Jon L. White (login name JONL) and I (GLS) were office mates at MIT
for many years. One April, we both flew from Boston to California for a
week on research business, to consult face-to-face with some people at
Stanford, particularly our mutual friend Richard P. Gabriel (RPG).RPG picked us up at the San Francisco airport and drove us back to
Palo Alto (going logical south on route 101,
parallel to El Camino Bignum). Palo Alto is
adjacent to Stanford University and about 40 miles south of San Francisco.
We ate at The Good Earth, a ‘health food’ restaurant, very
popular, the sort whose milkshakes all contain honey and protein powder.
JONL ordered such a shake — the waitress claimed the flavor of the
day was “lalaberry”. I still have no idea what that might be,
but it became a running joke. It was the color of raspberry, and JONL said
it tasted rather bitter. I ate a better tostada there than I have ever had
in a Mexican restaurant.After this we went to the local Uncle Gaylord's Old Fashioned Ice
Cream Parlor. They make ice cream fresh daily, in a variety of intriguing
flavors. It's a chain, and they have a slogan: “If you don't live
near an Uncle Gaylord's — MOVE!” Also, Uncle Gaylord (a real
person) wages a constant battle to force big-name ice cream makers to print
their ingredients on the package (like air and plastic and other
non-natural garbage). JONL and I had first discovered Uncle Gaylord's the
previous August, when we had flown to a computer-science conference in
Berkeley, California, the first time either of us had been on the West
Coast. When not in the conference sessions, we had spent our time
wandering the length of Telegraph Avenue, which (like Harvard Square in
Cambridge) was lined with picturesque street vendors and interesting little
shops. On that street we discovered Uncle Gaylord's Berkeley store. The
ice cream there was very good. During that August visit JONL went
absolutely bananas (so to speak) over one particular flavor, ginger
honey.Therefore, after eating at The Good Earth — indeed, after every
lunch and dinner and before bed during our April visit — a trip to
Uncle Gaylord's (the one in Palo Alto) was mandatory. We had arrived on a
Wednesday, and by Thursday evening we had been there at least four times.
Each time, JONL would get ginger honey ice cream, and proclaim to all
bystanders that “Ginger was the spice that drove the Europeans mad!
That's why they sought a route to the East! They used it to preserve their
otherwise off-taste meat.” After the third or fourth repetition RPG
and I were getting a little tired of this spiel, and began to paraphrase
him: “Wow! Ginger! The spice that makes rotten meat taste
good!” “Say! Why don't we find some dog that's been run over
and sat in the sun for a week and put some ginger on
it for dinner?!” “Right! With a lalaberry shake!” And
so on. This failed to faze JONL; he took it in good humor, as long as we
kept returning to Uncle Gaylord's. He loves ginger honey ice cream.Now RPG and his then-wife KBT (Kathy Tracy) were putting us up
(putting up with us?) in their home for our visit, so to thank them JONL
and I took them out to a nice French restaurant of their choosing. I
unadventurously chose the filet mignon, and KBT had je
ne sais quoi du jour, but RPG and JONL had lapin (rabbit). (Waitress: “Oui, we have fresh rabbit, fresh today.” RPG:
“Well, JONL, I guess we won't need any
ginger!”)We finished the meal late, about 11PM, which is 2AM Boston time, so
JONL and I were rather droopy. But it wasn't yet midnight. Off to Uncle
Gaylord's!Now the French restaurant was in Redwood City, north of Palo Alto.
In leaving Redwood City, we somehow got onto route 101 going north instead
of south. JONL and I wouldn't have known the difference had RPG not
mentioned it. We still knew very little of the local geography. I did
figure out, however, that we were headed in the direction of Berkeley, and
half-jokingly suggested that we continue north and go to Uncle Gaylord's in
Berkeley.RPG said “Fine!” and we drove on for a while and talked.
I was drowsy, and JONL actually dropped off to sleep for 5 minutes. When
he awoke, RPG said, “Gee, JONL, you must have slept all the way over
the bridge!”, referring to the one spanning San Francisco Bay. Just
then we came to a sign that said “University Avenue”. I
mumbled something about working our way over to Telegraph Avenue; RPG said
“Right!” and maneuvered some more. Eventually we pulled up in
front of an Uncle Gaylord's.Now, I hadn't really been paying attention because I was so sleepy,
and I didn't really understand what was happening until RPG let me in on it
a few moments later, but I was just alert enough to notice that we had
somehow come to the Palo Alto Uncle Gaylord's after all.JONL noticed the resemblance to the Palo Alto store, but hadn't
caught on. (The place is lit with red and yellow lights at night, and
looks much different from the way it does in daylight.) He said,
“This isn't the Uncle Gaylord's I went to in Berkeley! It looked
like a barn! But this place looks just like the one
back in Palo Alto!”RPG deadpanned, “Well, this is the one I
always come to when I'm in Berkeley. They've got two in San Francisco,
too. Remember, they're a chain.”JONL accepted this bit of wisdom. And he was not totally ignorant
— he knew perfectly well that University Avenue was in Berkeley, not
far from Telegraph Avenue. What he didn't know was that there is a
completely different University Avenue in Palo Alto.JONL went up to the counter and asked for ginger honey. The guy at
the counter asked whether JONL would like to taste it first, evidently
their standard procedure with that flavor, as not too many people like
it.JONL said, “I'm sure I like it. Just give me a cone.”
The guy behind the counter insisted that JONL try just a taste first.
“Some people think it tastes like soap.” JONL insisted,
“Look, I love ginger. I eat Chinese food. I
eat raw ginger roots. I already went through this hassle with the guy back
in Palo Alto. I know I like that
flavor!”At the words “back in Palo Alto” the guy behind the
counter got a very strange look on his face, but said nothing. KBT caught
his eye and winked. Through my stupor I still hadn't quite grasped what
was going on, and thought RPG was rolling on the floor laughing and
clutching his stomach just because JONL had launched into his spiel
(“makes rotten meat a dish for princes”) for the forty-third
time. At this point, RPG clued me in fully.RPG, KBT, and I retreated to a table, trying to stifle our chuckles.
JONL remained at the counter, talking about ice cream with the guy b.t.c.,
comparing Uncle Gaylord's to other ice cream shops and generally having a
good old time.At length the g.b.t.c.: said, “How's the ginger honey?”
JONL said, “Fine! I wonder what exactly is in it?” Now Uncle
Gaylord publishes all his recipes and even teaches classes on how to make
his ice cream at home. So the g.b.t.c.: got out the recipe, and he and
JONL pored over it for a while. But the g.b.t.c.: could contain his
curiosity no longer, and asked again, “You really like that stuff,
huh?” JONL said, “Yeah, I've been eating it constantly back in
Palo Alto for the past two days. In fact, I think this batch is about as
good as the cones I got back in Palo Alto!”G.b.t.c.: looked him straight in the eye and said, “You're
in Palo Alto!”JONL turned slowly around, and saw the three of us collapse in a fit
of giggles. He clapped a hand to his forehead and exclaimed, “I've
been hacked!”