San Fran, day 1
I'm sitting in the common room of a youth hostel on the San Francisco waterfront and I've got exactly 14 minutes to finish this post before my $2 worth of internet access runs out. Out the windw I can see Alcatraz, the Golden Gate Bridge and the Oakland Bay Bridge.
Ok, so I came to this place with a chip on ym shoulder. San Fran has a well deserved reputation for harboring a healthy selection of fruits, nuts and lefties. True to form everywhere I look I seem to find posters for peace rallies, anti-globalization this-and-that, corporations bad, ambition bad, let's all just smoke out, drop out and pretend we really aren't one step away from a Lord of the Flies breakdown. (The clock is ticking. I know this makes no sense.) So I'm watching the granola munchers and muttering to myself---as I eat my Spicy California Rolls that I just picked up from Trader Joe's down the street. Um, light soy sauce please.
And then I walk into Sweeties, a local pub bar in an out-of-the-way location in North Point and an inviting happy hour special. I sit down and proceed to embibe four pints in as many hours. Pretty mild by some standards, but a lot considering my recent habits. But it was good. I talked to such an eclectic bunch of folks. Turns out the bar tender was an ex-computer science guy who'snow getting an MFA in creative writing. The guy next to me has dreams of starting a drum factory and brought in a specimen to demonstrate. The guy had a crummy upbringing, but said San Fran is the first/only pklace he ever felt at home at. Why? He's kind of a hippy-looking guy with stringly ong blonde hair and a Bohemian attitude about him. Says no one ever judged hi here. When he asked for a job they didn't turn him down based on the way he looks.
Another of the regulars was a dead-ringer for George Carlin and even sounded like him and was hilarious to boot! ...until he got on this harangue about how the Republicans just want to stick it to the little guys. I kept my cool and just listened. It was a learning experience.
And then I walked and walked and walked, always uphill, until I came to China Town. Had me a huge bowl of noodle soup, to go, standing in a sketchy alley. So Hollywood. And then I found it---adult entertainment mecca. OK, I admit to being drawn in by the lights, but I'm just not the same person (not that I ever was that person, really) and I could just feel the slime sticking to me. I high-tailed it out of there and walked back to the hostel.
And here I am. And here's my story. Mistakes and all. One minute and 15 seconds left.
Ok, so I came to this place with a chip on ym shoulder. San Fran has a well deserved reputation for harboring a healthy selection of fruits, nuts and lefties. True to form everywhere I look I seem to find posters for peace rallies, anti-globalization this-and-that, corporations bad, ambition bad, let's all just smoke out, drop out and pretend we really aren't one step away from a Lord of the Flies breakdown. (The clock is ticking. I know this makes no sense.) So I'm watching the granola munchers and muttering to myself---as I eat my Spicy California Rolls that I just picked up from Trader Joe's down the street. Um, light soy sauce please.
And then I walk into Sweeties, a local pub bar in an out-of-the-way location in North Point and an inviting happy hour special. I sit down and proceed to embibe four pints in as many hours. Pretty mild by some standards, but a lot considering my recent habits. But it was good. I talked to such an eclectic bunch of folks. Turns out the bar tender was an ex-computer science guy who'snow getting an MFA in creative writing. The guy next to me has dreams of starting a drum factory and brought in a specimen to demonstrate. The guy had a crummy upbringing, but said San Fran is the first/only pklace he ever felt at home at. Why? He's kind of a hippy-looking guy with stringly ong blonde hair and a Bohemian attitude about him. Says no one ever judged hi here. When he asked for a job they didn't turn him down based on the way he looks.
Another of the regulars was a dead-ringer for George Carlin and even sounded like him and was hilarious to boot! ...until he got on this harangue about how the Republicans just want to stick it to the little guys. I kept my cool and just listened. It was a learning experience.
And then I walked and walked and walked, always uphill, until I came to China Town. Had me a huge bowl of noodle soup, to go, standing in a sketchy alley. So Hollywood. And then I found it---adult entertainment mecca. OK, I admit to being drawn in by the lights, but I'm just not the same person (not that I ever was that person, really) and I could just feel the slime sticking to me. I high-tailed it out of there and walked back to the hostel.
And here I am. And here's my story. Mistakes and all. One minute and 15 seconds left.
posted by anchovy @ 8:49 PM
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