San Fran is all HYPE Part 1 [9-5-07]

2 Jan

My best pal Sarah was nice enough to fly my 2 cats to Nevada so I didn’t have to go all the way back to Missouri just to fly back to Nevada.  When she got here I tried to show her a good time.   Whore houses, Lake Tahoe, Reno, and Virginia City have their place—but northernNevada is no Chicago.  So to make up for it, we drove to San Fransisco—which is just 6 hours from where I’m staying.

We finally got there about 5 or 6 pm and after driving around lost for awhile, ended up in the Tenderloin.  Of course, I had to stop in the seedy-looking area for gas. . .  I didn’t really want to get out of the car either.  There was a homeless man lingering around the pumps and I did not want him to come over and talk to me.  Oh, he did.  He asked if he could wash my windshield, and trying to be as polite as possible, so as to avoid a bad scene, I sad “No thank you, sir.”  Then, of course I couldn’t get the f-ing pump to work.  For whatever reason, in California, the pumps are different. You have to attach them all special.  I think it’s because, like Texans, Californians think they are their own country and special for some reason (they’re not–they’re just a pain in the ass).  Anyway, the homeless man comes up again and offers suggestions.  I finally get out of there and we work on trying to find a hotel.  Whenever Sarah and I have gone anywhere in the past it’s been a hassel to actually find the hotel we reserved online.  This trip we figured we would just get a place when we got there.  Looking back, this was the wrong method.  San Francisco takes some planning ahead.

I’m driving around aimlessly in the terrible traffic and hilly roads (remember the brakes on my car aren’t up to par) just hoping to find any hotel.  We pass a person on the road with a red raggedy ann wig and I think a dress and heels.  Very masculine looking and VERY out of it.  The person was pacing up and down the street looking very belligerent.  FYI the Tenderloin is not the best neighborhood”.  It WAS cool to see where “Screaming Queens” (a film from the creating change conference) took place though.  When we finally found the Days Inn, I was a little afraid my car would be stolen or something.  Shady-looking people where lingering around everywhere!  We go inside and the mean Asian tells us they have 1 room left with 1 queen size bed and it’s by the elevator and drinking fountain.  He said we would have to pay 200-some dollars to stay there for a night.  We asked where other hotels would be and he assured us they would be full-“it’s the busy season girls.”

He said it with attituide like we were all stupid too!  Asshole!  Instead of caring about our safety, he tried to coerce us into taking a crappy room–he probably had more, too.  We decided we would take our chances and go elsewhere.  Sarah and I were definitely ready just to drive the 6 hours back home.  It was not turning into the fun time we thought.  We again started driving aimlessly and I headed toward San Jose.  Then, we came upon about 6 hotels-yay!  Unfortunately, they were also on on their “last room” and also crazy expensive. This is when my last ex who got hotel discounts would have come in handy. . .  We drove on further and found a little Ramanda.  It was our last attempt before just turning around and going home.  Its “last room” was under $125 so we took it—having no other option.

We were stoked after having secured a hotel so we decided to go somewhere fun to eat and drink.  Easier said than done.  Sarah had a book with good places to go in San Fran so we decided to try some of the places in it.  Since it was later than we anticipated we figured we would start at the Castro district and do some of the things farther away the next day.  What I didn’t know was 7-8 pm is the most popular time ever to go into the city.  There were no parking spots anywhere.  I just kept driving and driving then hitting a one way street and trying to figure out how to get back in the vicinity of the restaurant.  Driving on the crazy hills.  The streets in San Fran are super steep up and down hills.  With my leaking brake fluid, it was not the best situation.  I was behind some cars at a red light on a particularly steep down hill and my car started making a groaning sound and creeping forward.  The concern was acerbated because my foot was firmly on the brake.  Yeah, the brakes were not going to make it on those hilly roads.  I was starting to panic.  No parking, no brakes, and ahhhhh how frustrating to drive around the same 8 blocks for an hour!  I hate city driving and lack of parking!!!  Jesus, build a parking garage, San Fran.  There was this random street really close to where we wanted to be that had all kinds of parking spots.  I thought better of parking there though—why, in the busiest time would people avoid an entire street?  I followed suit though thinking the locals must know something I didn’t.  Finally after an hour I found a spot to park on 10th street—about 16 blocks from where we wanted to be.  I was so infuriated at the lack of parking and frustrated from city driving, and scared about my failing brakes, I took the parking spot gladly.  The restaurant we were looking for was bright yellow.  We walked and walked, then Sarah told me she thought we had gone to far.  No way!  We would NOT walk right by a bright yellow building right, right?  Well, maybe.  So we walked all the way back—it’s around 9:30 pm now—2 and a half hours after we started trying to get to this place.  Yup, we had walked right past the place.  We stopped to read the posted menu and the girl inside glared—thy close at 10 and she obviously didn’t want us coming in.  So all the work (and time) for nothing.  Sarah and I were hating San Fran.  I’ll finish up the San Fran trip in the next log.  Dun, dun, dun–To be continued. . .

 

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