We prowl down to the strip mall, and I go for some espresso and cinammon rolls while Steph gets her bangs trimmed at SuperCuts. On Tuesday she'll be off to India, and who knows what kind of haircuts they have there? Steph traded in her Burning Man tickets this year for a two-month stint as a volunteer near Calcutta. She'll be plucking kids off the streets, outfitting with some clothes and a good meal, and giving them a little temporary reprieve from the spirit-crushing life. Unlike younger people, Stephanie is very realistic about what she can do there. No matter how much you want to accomplish, you can only profoundly affect people on a comparatively small scale. But she is determined to do it anyway. With short bangs.
Mark joins us and we make tracks for Frisco, stopping to eat at In-And-Out Burger, a legendary fast-food restaurant. There are only a few things on the menu, but they're all done perfectly, without flash, and inexpensively. After that, we park our bags at The Good Hotel in downtown. It's an eco-friendly hotel where all the furniture is made of recycled goods and the shampoo comes in a dispenser, not a bottle. It's a really cool, new place, and very inexpensive, though it's not likely to stay that way. People will figure it out. We do a very abbreviated tour of downtown: Fisherman's Wharf, Pier 39 (the piers are numbered, most of which are commercial, and a few are tourist destinations). The sea lions are all sacked out on pallets floating in the harbor ... the life we all dream of, I suppose. Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge are covered in relatively cold fog.
I find some sunglasses and coconut M&M's (which I've been seeking out for a long time) at a Walgreen's. We duck into the legendary Buena Vista restaurant for some Irish Coffees. This is where Irish Coffee was introduced in America, and the bartender pours of line of 25 at a time: first a pot of coffee divided among the mugs, then Bushmills, then a dollop of heavy, homemade cream sauce. People order these things as fast as they are made, and I see why. They are very warm and welcome on a day like this, in the 60's and a little dampish.
For dinner, we hit the Tonga Room, a Hawaiian themed restaurant built in the old swimming pool room of a hotel. It's high-end kitsch. We sit under thatched-roof huts and every half-hour comes thunder,lightning, then rain. It creates a monsoon-like atmosphere. At 8:00 a band floats out on a little barge on the swimming pool and plays bad 70's music. As the drummer slams the skins, the barge rocks a little bit, making you marvel at their dexerity. I have a pot of fish stew over rice, washed down with a signature Tonga Itch (rum, gin, and fruit juices). I need all the strength I can get.
And then The 1015 Folsum. Friggin' wow! Three floors of pulsating techno and hip-hop, wild flowing alcohol and people dancing their patooties off. That night the crowd is mostly Asian and Russian, from 10 PM onwards in constant motion. I am right there with them. The DJ's are expert psychological manipulators - working the crowd into a frenzy and then sending rib-rattling beats to set us all in motion. It's a constant struggle between tension and release, and you feel yourself pulled into it.
In between floors, people pass you lighted reefers and invite you in. Without incriminating myself, let's just say this ... no one is interested in busting anybody. I start feeling chummy with the inhabitants of the third floor, where there are sectional couches and people zonked out on various things. I talk with everyone - the people left at this hour are clearly music fiends. A couple from the east coast recommends NYC clubs to me. This California live-and-let-live vibe is starting to take me over. It's wonderful and refreshing and so very unlike my daily grind. I see why people move here in droves.
I stumble into my room at 3 AM. My ears are buzzing and leaking a little fluid. I am happier than I have been in years.
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