Wednesday, August 25
A San Francisco Treat
Anyway. This time time in San Francisco, unlike my first visit in 2008, the camera was packed and pictures were recorded for posterity. Because last time I only came home with some salami that wasn't even from that trip and a shattered illusion about California being hot. San Francisco is decidedly not hot or at least they turn the thermostat down low whenever I come to town in a probable attempt to keep me from staying long. Wow, paranoid much?
Anyway, this time more ground was covered (last time I made it two blocks) and sights were seen.
Haight-Ashbury was trippy, full of hippies who still haven't found their way home, and lots of funky little shops. Dreaded heads and Dead Heads were openly smoking up on the street and my non-trippy trip was complete when a man on a bicycle almost ran over Catherine while yelling 'I GOT NOT BRAKES AND I'M HIIIIIIIIIIGH'.
Man, I wish I had snapped some pictures of the sushi bar we stumbled into on Saturday night where the hostesses glared at me while still smiling -- she was that good -- because I was drunk and dropping chopsticks all over the place. The third time a set was dropped, I quietly and very drunkly (is too a word) got up and took another off a table to spare the hostess another trip to out back. Odds are she was probably using my dirty chopsticks to gouge holes into a crudely drawn picture of me in the kitchen because on that particular evening? I was THAT customer.
Face it. You can barely dress me up and it's ill-advised to take me out anywhere but at least when you do? I'm entertaining.
Hey did you know I slay alarm clocks? True story: At 3am after the sushi bar, we were both fast asleep probably dreaming about how wonderful it was that no little people were trying to implement their favorite form of torture on us, aka. sleep deprivation. Children have no Geneva Convention or need for human rights. Anyway. For no reason other than someone or something paranormal hates us, the alarm clock in our hotel room went off. At 3am. So it was promptly shut off. Then 5 minutes later it went off again. This time it was ripped out of the wall by Catherine who used a lot of swear words.
Five minutes later it went off again.
At this point the clock was declared a demon and all buttons were pushed while screams of 'IT'S UNPLUGGED' were heard around the entire Bay Area.
Five minutes later -- you guessed it -- it went off again. This was my cue to take it across the room, turn on a light, only to discover it had 4 (FOUR!) alarms, and no obvious way to disable any of the time settings. Dream machine my ass. No really, it was a Dream Machine alarm clock or so sayeth the label. Not wanting to break hotel property I dismantled it's heart and brain, threw some holy water on it, and shoved it under a throne in the corner of our room. No really, we had two thrones in our room and I don't think either of us blinked at this fact. Why thrones? No idea but I firmly believe all hotel rooms should have them.
That last detail has nothing to do with anything but isn't that the point of most of my posts anyway? Me tired, San Francisco beautiful, and alarm clocks hate me. End of story.
(thank you Virgin America for the ticket on your new route from YYZ to SFO and LAX -- more on that to come on my review blog)
Yup, this is my useless filing system: I can't make this stuff up