Well after all the debauchery of that weekend. We stayed with a lovely couple that lived in Woodside (Neil Young has a ranch close there, but alas I din’t meet him). So I was kinda pampered as they were nice enough to take a stranger in. One of the hosts, Steve, even read us stories, one night I smoked fine cigars and and sipped fin whiskey with him (of course I donned my Mirage bathrobe). Me and the gals went on lovely hikes. Then mid week Megan and I left lil Bethan to meet up with some friends of a friend of mine in Oakland.
These friends of a friend I’ve heard a lot about (I’ve even been in their house before) so it was good to put a face to the stories. One thing I got to say about Oakland is, it’s cool. I know it’s where crack is from and its got shady parts. But Oakland kinda reminded me of East coast cities (mostley cuz the bums mostly left you alone after you make aware to them you really don’t think they ran outta gas). The twins and their cousin (these are my friends of a friend, who are now my friends) showed me this neat lil site which everyone should check out before someone ruins it. Its called the Landfill.
And it’s pretty fuckin sick, basically after an earthquake happened in the 80’s they dumped bunch of it in the bay. So now it’s over grown, has graffiti everywhere, but the homeless took it over. Like its a colony, one dude made a concrete castle the rest live in tents or whatever, some even have solar panels. There’s even junk sculptures and a library.Its sick look at the photos. Then the next day was back in Frisky Frisco at the Green Tortoise.
Well weekend started out with me getting out of jail and with crab races and me getting ridiculously drunk (wow!!! what are the odds). Ok, So the getting out of jail was just a tour of Alcatraz, but it was fun to tell my parents that when my dad did his routine call of making sure I’m not dead. At the hostel Bethan’s team won the crab races and I tried teaching people at the hostel the great game of Matchbox, yeah that didn’t work. So I kept drinking and picked on a Swede that I just kept calling Blondie. Somehow I was even talked into going to a titty bar with him, but left immediately after hearing the word “cover”. I dislike covers.
The next day I took my car to the shop (Midas had to correct things), but fortunately it was right by the tattoo parlor and gave me a free night of parking. Yay. Seriously tho parking in San Fran is expensive so that was nice and my buddy John got a kickass tattoo from Blackheart Tattoo. Later that day was a hostel pub crawl which was neat checkin out some places. The best was the last bar which was a club and obviously a gansta ass club. So it was great to see a bunch of foreigners prove that white guys can dance. Later that night everyone went to bed, and I had a desire for ice cream and a beer. So I go out to grab that then step out of the store. A riot on the street breaks out in front of the hostel… and there I am just licking a ice cream cone (I always stand out like a sore thumb). After all that excitement it was time for bed right after I smoke a joint on the roof and get an Aussie way to high for his comfort zone.
The next day we left the hostel and I had to say goodbye to the girls because they had to go home to the motherland and the only thing sensible to do at this point is go back-country backpacking by myself after months of binge drinking.