We thought we were the highest rollers in San Francisco.

We're drinking, carrying on, thinking we're important. So we have this silver. We decide we have to put it somewhere safe. It was an excuse to go to San Francisco. We put it in a safe deposit box in the bank vault at the Wells Fargo Bank on Market Street.

He convinced us that this is the thing we've got to do. We were going to make it big.

To this day I think we just dined and ditched. I remember running down Market Street, fleeing for my life.

We'd go to a beautiful lunch, the best bars, drink their fancy drinks. We're all underage, first of all. We were having a blast and moving on to the next place. He would pick up the tab.

I never thought it was humanly possible, but this both sucks and blows.