TTLG USA (CA) 2007 - I'm coming for you. OH WTF SAN FRANCISCO - by David
Gingerbread Man on 31/8/2007 at 03:55
Quote Posted by Starrfall
the german bar
Has he mistaken us for someone else? Why are we being led back to what is presumably an abattoir? Or maybe some kind of VIP room? What did he say? Oompa music? What? Does he think we're important or something? This is creepy and awesome at the same time. I need more beer.
"The striped-shirt-and-chinos crowd," roared Shug over the phenomenal stylings of the world's least-appreciated DJ, "want to fight us, I think."
"What?" I shouted back, all the while grooving like a motherfucker to some fat beets.
"I think they think we're invading their territory," he said, indicating the three people sitting right next to him. All of whom were frowning at us because Shug was perfectly audible from two feet away. And because we were totally and hilariously invading their territory.
Stitch, meanwhile, was gesticulating wildly and with great expanse in his conversation (I think with David) across the table he'd just strode over the top of on his way to sit down between Shug and the aforementioned striped-shirt-and-chinos crowd. They occasionally had to flinch back from Stitch's waving arms.
"Well, I think they're upset with King Billy," I said. "He very nearly pitched their Heinekens on the floor."
Quote:
the bar with the smoking and the scary bathroom stairs
As dark as the inside of a dog's bottom, and full of stairs. We sat in the back amidst discarded popcorn bags and an assortment of overflowing recycling bins, six of us huddled over a table for four. None of it mattered -- they served reasonably-priced beer in large glasses and that, when you get right down to it, is the important bit.
This was the sort of place you could come back to the following night and buy more than a dozen mixed drinks for $40. I made a mental note to do exactly that.
Scots was unable to circumvent the tremendously stoned person attempting to work the jukebox.
Quote:
the bar with the drunk bartender
PISS OFF
and something glass smashed into the floor next to his foot
FUCK OFF I WANT A BEERS
and then there were beers
HEY I SAID NO MORE FUCKING POOL
IT'S OKAY, THEY'RE FROM AUSTRALIA
Okay, there's the thing... I am pretty sure it was something pretty much equivalent to O'Toole's. Are there O'Toole's in America? It's really no wonder that French exchange student was cold to you, Stitch. Talk about running a lawnmower over someone's sandcastle -- we were far too huge for that place.
Quote:
the cafeteria bar with the marilyn monroe statue
broken glass
scots damn near gives himself a concussion at the urinal while I bellow Jerusalem from a stall as became my wont that weekend
fuck knows how I got served alcohol by that point, although I imagine the hypnotic drawl of whitey mcpianoman was like the Force Itself. And I remember we sang SING US A SONG YOU'RE THE PIANOMAN all the way out the door and back into the filthy embrace of the neighbourhood
Also that place was WAY too well-lit, never mind the Marilyn Monroe.
Quote:
the bar before the bar being remodeled
ONLY THREE BEERS TO CHOOSE FROM
also we had to rearrange the furniture, and someone told me Scots went into a fake bathroom and his eyes were ripped out by cultists from the Antilles, but when I saw him again he looked fine so maybe it was a doppelganger. Or maybe whoever told me that is a lying cocksucker.
Also that's where Fafhrhdhrhfd revealed that he is entirely fucking metal.
Quote:
and the one after the one being remodeled.
Less of an O'Toole's this time. But still more a deli than a bar. I think they were lying to us about the bar closing in a couple of minutes, I think they wanted us to stop wandering aimlessly in the corner
also Fafhrd redefines the periodic table by demonstrating an entirely different sort of metal: Pintoguinnesschuggium.
Stitch on 31/8/2007 at 04:09
oh god yes how could I not have addressed the power of the Fafhrd
Great write up, I'm lollin. I had forgotten about the glass I broke and then proceeded to drink from, undoubtedly accompanied by a shrug and an "I've done worse."
Scots Taffer on 31/8/2007 at 04:16
Quote Posted by Gingerbread Man
"The striped-shirt-and-chinos crowd," roared Shug over the phenomenal stylings of the world's least-appreciated DJ, "want to fight us, I think."
"What?" I shouted back, all the while grooving like a motherfucker to some fat beets.
"I think they think we're invading their territory," he said, indicating the three people sitting right next to him. All of whom were frowning at us because Shug was perfectly audible from two feet away. And because we were totally and hilariously invading their territory.
Stitch, meanwhile, was gesticulating wildly and with great expanse in his conversation (I think with David) across the table he'd just strode over the top of on his way to sit down between Shug and the aforementioned striped-shirt-and-chinos crowd. They occasionally had to flinch back from Stitch's waving arms.
"Well, I think they're upset with King Billy," I said. "He very nearly pitched their Heinekens on the floor."
At this stage I'm passing over from bemused into mildly irritated that everyone keeps confusing me with Shug. :grr:
The white belt brigade were upset, understandably, but Stitch appreciated the fashion sense at least.
Anyway, great write-ups guys, I'm just revelling in the glory of those three and a half days now. A true experience of a lifetime.
Gingerbread Man on 31/8/2007 at 04:26
THIS IS HOW I REMEMBER IT
Inline Image:
http://www.ttlg.com/gbm/sothereYOU.gifAnyway, I thought you were sitting between Starr and RBJ at that point. If it helps, I did sit for about five minutes trying to remember which one of you it was, and I chose Shug in the end because I was 52% sure it was him and only 48% sure it was you.
And don't get all jealous that I can hold multiple, mutually-exclusive, and utterly tangential truths in my head at once. I am a professional, I do that shit in my SLEEP.
crunchy on 31/8/2007 at 04:31
So when are we going to see some photos of the ttlgers instead of all the pics of loonies? :cheeky:
Starrfall on 31/8/2007 at 05:51
Quote Posted by Stitch
Great write up, I'm lollin. I had forgotten about the glass I broke and then proceeded to drink from, undoubtedly accompanied by a shrug and an "I've done worse."
I think it was actually more like "not the worst thing I've done"
Also even if I can't pick up scots I totally could have taken on those fuckers who were obviously upset that their INTIMATE EVENING in the VERY LOUD BAR was being disturbed by some other dudes who WEREN'T trying to sweet talk ladies in a VERY LOUD bar.
This is because the dudes in our group were mostly trying to sweet talk other dudes in our group.
Scots Taffer on 31/8/2007 at 06:58
I've done worse was another of those Stitch mantras that got worn into the ground.
Also, I remember being completely overawed by GBM's hot coffee and little milk carton trick that he showed me in the diner, that's probably more to do with the lack of sleep than the ingenuity of the entire thing though.
David on 2/9/2007 at 21:40
I'm skipping ahead to CAMPING stores ( to be followed by Aussie Adventures) before I forget what happened.
Sunday:
Sunday dawned bright and early and I was woken by my crazy wake-up-at-7am-regardless body clock. Around 8:15 I was sitting on my tiny hotel room bed reading the forums and pondering how best to get hold of Starr and GBM to make preparations for our camping trip when my bedside phone rings. Downstairs Stitch, Scots and Shug are waiting for me so we can go grab some breakfast. They're pretty giggly at this point, but I pass that off as normal for some reason, until a couple of minutes later Scots says that they've not been to sleep at all and have been up all night talking. It's only then that I notice that they're all wearing the same clothes as the night before and all look a little bleary eyed.
Tales of their random conversations and spontaneous contagious giggling emerge as the four of us make our way over to Starr's and GBM's Motel 6 which was slightly more
in the ghetto then I remembered, being that we'd been in the general area on Friday night.
We arrive and Stitch calls them on his cell phone, as the place had no lobby to enquire room numbers or make phone calls from. A couple of minutes later GBM wanders out from the bowels of the place, cigarette in hand. His first words probably include the word ‘niggaz'.
I have no idea where we're going for breakfast, so I'm just following people who do know, chatting with them and admiring how very ‘awake' everyone is for 8:45 on a Sunday, especially the three who've yet to sleep.
We end up at Lori's, a 50's style bar which Stitch had had breakfast with Starr and GBM at the day before. Before long we're nursing cups of coffee and perusing the menu for something to quash the slightly icky stomach that's telling you that you drank too much last night. I've never had a cheese sandwich and fries for breakfast before, so that was novel.
There's much chatter, giggling and general merriment as we gorge ourselves on way way WAY too much fat and fake sugars.
A scant 30 minutes later and we're splitting into two groups, Starr, GBM and I in one and Stitch, Scots and Shug in the other. There's much handshaking, patting of backs and exclamations that included the words ‘very', ‘fucking' and ‘awesome'. I make plans to hook up with the Aussies when I get back from camping and that's that.
Starr, GBM and I make our way down to my hotel to pick up my bag and tent. Starr remarks that she and GBM have now been in everyone's hotel room bar RBJ's. I'm struggling not to make dirty jokes (it's too early), but somehow I manage it and we're soon on our way to the Motel 6. We're walking along and I'm silently wondering when I became so unfit. I wasn't before I left, I'm sure. I blame the hills and the crazy food portions San Francisco serves up.
Back at the hotel and Starr and GBM grab their last things and we all playing tetris with the various bags, trying to get them to fit in the red Honda Civic. I'm still not sure how everything got in there, it sure as hell didn't look possible at the time.
Soon we escape the confines of the city and are bombing along the costal road towards the campsite. I'm sitting in the back, admiring the gorgeous view including the white rocks, which GBM tells me are white because of birdshit. Nice. We're listening to a ironic Finnish goth band (His Infernal Majesty) who's lyrics are absolutely dynamite and so utterly over the top. I've just this second bought the album on iTunes. Rockin'
An hour later we turn onto a road boarded by strawberry fields as far as the eye can see. They're everywhere, and the air smells like strawberries, which is incredible. Half an hour later we're in the short queue for the campsite check in and Starr is cursing the people in front who A) can't drive close enough to the little hut to talk to the warden without getting out and B) all want to engage in a 30 minute conversation with the warden.
We spend all of 30 seconds talking to the warden, without getting out of the car, no less! We're directing to campsite 82 in the Dunes section of the site, which is right next to the campsite Starr and GBM stayed at last time they came.
We unpack the car in remarkable time and are soon scouting out the slopey campsite for the flattest spots to pitch our tents. Tents are soon erected (1) and I'm rather jealously admiring the self-inflating air mattress that Starr and GBM have bought with them. Damn that shit looked comfortable and if I ever go again I am taking two suitcases, one of which will be home to a self-inflating air mattress.
Hopping back in the car we head over to Watsonville, the small town near the campsite, to buy meat and other things that couldn't be left in the car for the three days in Man Fran. I soon notice that, as Starr said, we are pretty much the only white people in the whole town. It seems to be a primarily Mexican town for, I presume, the local farming industry.
After we've paid for cart loaded with meat, food, juice and dodgy $1 bug spray we head on back to the car and see a couple of store guys running after a mexican lad and calling out to him. It sounds like the think he's stolen something from the store. I don't think we ever found out if he had stolen anything or not. For a split second I was very aware I was in a country with (comparatively) liberal gun laws.
We arrive back at the campsite, unpack the food and stick the perishable stuff in big polystyrene steak boxes chock full of ice and admire the general awesomeness of the situation we find ourselves in. A walk was soon indicated and we head up the hill. Starr spots a huge RV through the woods. There's nothing special about this, other than the enormous american flag hanging outside (2). During the whole trip I've been acutely aware that this country loves Ol' Glory and it's really weird, although I suppose most people, like Starr, just tune it out.
I have no real idea where we are, so when we come to the top of the hill my mouth almost drops open as we're at the top of a cliff overlooking a golden beach and clear blue ocean as far as the eye can see(3). We sit on a bench and stare out at the view for a while and then I bust out the camera and start snapping away like I'm paparazzi and Britney has forgotten her underwear again. (4) (5) (6)
Back at the campsite the conversation turns to food and we soon bust out the charcoal and set them going. I then stand around drinking beer, watching Starr and GBM make hamburgers (7) and start snapping away with my camera again.
It's not long before the meat is on the grill and being cooked. Inevitably one of the hamburgers ends up in the charcoal, but is soon washed off and GBM, in an act of chivalry(!) insists that he'll eat that one.
We wash down the burgers and sausages with some beer and start to make a proper fire to sit down and chat by (8). The topics are varied, from David Attenborough's Planet Earth to TTLG to the stars that are peaking their way through the velvety sky. As we're quite a long way from any major towns there is little light pollution and hundreds of stars and constellations are visible. GBM points out that the cloudy looking band in the sky is not actually the cloud, but is the Milky Way is received by me making this face: O_O
Next up: Monday, Monterey and a Bucket of Fire.
Photographic Apendix:
1
Inline Image:
http://www.ttlg.com/dave/camping/1.jpg2
Inline Image:
http://www.ttlg.com/dave/camping/6.jpg3
Inline Image:
http://www.ttlg.com/dave/camping/2.jpg4
Inline Image:
http://www.ttlg.com/dave/camping/3.jpg5
Inline Image:
http://www.ttlg.com/dave/camping/4.jpg6
Inline Image:
http://www.ttlg.com/dave/camping/5.jpg7
Inline Image:
http://www.ttlg.com/dave/camping/7.jpg8
Inline Image:
http://www.ttlg.com/dave/camping/8.jpgScots Taffer on 3/9/2007 at 00:57
Nice write-up, Daveh, but screw you guys with your photographic appendices, this ain't some academic paper! I want my photos scattered throughout the story to give it a bit of life and colour!
So, without further ado:
THE REST OF THE TRIP: (this won't be as long because I'm all outta gas for this thread)The morning after the night before was - as already mentioned - a fun experience. Stitch will elaborate more, I'm sure, but basically we bonded in a completely heterosexual way that was very cool. After breakfast, where I suddenly remembered being in awe of GBM's hot coffee and little milk serving skills, we took it back to the hotel room and giggled our way to midday before I passed out for a few hours, somewhere between the analingus jokes and the toilet being ruled an international disaster zone the three of us became friends for life.
Anyway, the day didn't progress much after that. Sunday was just a blur of sleeping, mexican food, The Green Mile so badly edited that I wanted to punch myself in the groin, and blabbering about how much fun the weekend had been.
Monday was a long lie-in followed by a walk down to the Wharf again (where we actually contemplated
walking to the Golden Gate bridge before realising it was many, many miles away), and I got a decent shot of Alcatraz from atop the hill next to the crookedest street in the world:
(
http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_0.JPG) <img src="http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_0.JPG" height=300 width=400>
So instead, we chilled in a Blues club for a few hours, Shug displayed a worrying interest in a book concerning how to fake your death and start a new life in the seriously-hardwared-up Spy Shop (which had phone tap detectors and key-kits for sports cars among other things), playing some pool and drinking a bunch of happy hour Captain Morgans and coke in between at the Dirty Martini, where we played two off-duty Federal Marshalls who were picking some dude up from jail, one of the Marshalls was so wasted it was hilarious - he'd lost a pool bet and ended up chewing an entire pack of tobacco. He sat in the corner and begged us not to bet on the games of pool, played his shots, then slumped into the foetal position again.
Tuesday we got up super early (7am, lol) and headed out to Oakland to play in a poker tournament. We were aware that Oakland was a less than stellar neighbourhood, but we were hoping that we wouldn't really have to get mixed up in it too much. We got off the BART at the only stop on San Pablo Avenue, where he knew the cardroom was, which was one of those effortlessly long streets that California seems to love. We had hoped we were at the high-numbers end of the street. No so, our stop was at number zero, our destination: 4000+. So we began walking from downtown Oakland and the further we got from the centre, the dingier our surroundings became and the less ...er... white our counterparts on the street were. Until, roughly a half hour of walking later, we were slap bang in the middle of the dodgiest ghetto I've ever had the pleasure of visiting. We were the only white guys for miles (with the exception of one crazy-looking, white biker dude, covered in tattoos), the shops were either derelict, burnt out, boarded up or seriously crummy looking.
At one stage, we were walking past a sidestreet where a guy in a blinged out Chrysler pulls up to the kerb and starts hollering at this dude walking down the street who quickly increased his pace and then the car sort of shifted into reverse and followed him down the street.
We expected to hear gunshots, but we mercifully reached the cardroom (which was in a better bit of town) without any bullets being fired. The poker tournament itself was a blast, I survived longer than Shug, 3 hours or so longer to be price. I got into one or two tough spots but then pulled through a few hands to become second in chips on my table, the very next hand I proceeded to do a huge bluff against the chipleader (who had AA and I held 8-6 offsuit) on a scary straight board by the turn, he folded, I showed the bluff, the table cracked up but that was my high water mark. I ended up getting moved to a new, very active table of big stacks and the ridiculous tournament structure meant I had to gamble and I did so at the worst possible time, when one of the remaining players in the hand had a decent hand and I had suited garbage. Oh well, I got to the last 25 and top 10 got paid, so it was a decent effort for my first live tournament.
Wednesday we visited the Golden Gate bridge:
(
http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_1.JPG) <img src="http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_1.JPG" height=300 width=400>
(http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_1A.JPG) Another bridge shot(
http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_1B.JPG) <img src="http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_1B.JPG" height=400 width=300>
Shug played a sissy, holding onto the rails with white-knuckles:
(
http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_2.JPG) <img src="http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_2.JPG" height=300 width=400>
(
http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_3.JPG)
...while I played it cool.That evening we met up with David and I actually can't remember for the life of me what we did. I think we went to the Italian place that Stitch, RBJ, Shug and I visited on the first night, and I got the rare lambchops again (and they were delicious, again). I also remember getting a pile of deep fried calamari and VEGGIES? They deep fried a carrot. Jesus, I think that's disgusting
and I'm from Scotland. Anyway, maybe Dave can fill in the blanks from there... did we do anything else that night?
Thursday was wine-tour day, and apart from
(http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_4.JPG) sampling some wine, (
http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_5.JPG)
swirling, sniffing and swishing to whateverize our aromatic esters, and
(http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_7.JPG) it was all too much for poor David.
The wine country was pretty, though drier and hotter than I was expecting:
(
http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_8.JPG) <img src="http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_8.JPG" height=300 width=400>
(http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_9.JPG) David managed to recover in time for the second winery and I'm about to
(http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_10.JPG) turn those frowns upside down with my rendition of
King of the Swingers. It was also on this day that Shug got a memento to always remind himself of the special time in Man Francisco, but GBM snaffled my pic of that. I'm sure he'll post it soon.
On the way back we saw the Golden Gate Bridge engulfed in fog:
(
http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_11.JPG) <img src="http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_11.JPG" height=300 width=400>
And we spent that evening in the Dirty Martini, playing pool, drinking cheap alcohol and then it was onwards to the cable car, to finally ride one over the massive hills. We three hung off the sides like maniacs and afterwards Daveh bid us farewell while Shug and I went off in search of my last night of antics. Eventually, through a circuitous jaunt around the city past various establishments that were closing early, we ended up back at old fan-favourite, Chelsea's Place. Where we sat and laughed at the Hooters International Beauty Pageant on TV, we learned how to play "liar dice" with two asian dudes, and got really, really drunk.
The next day Shug went off to find some accomodation while David and I did lunch, I did Victoria's Secret while David did Borders (I got a signed copy of Kat's new book there), then we did a brief turn around Chinatown again:
(
http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_12.JPG) <img src="http://www.christopher-morgan.co.uk/images/sanfran/DAY3_12.JPG" height=300 width=400>
And the trip ended where it started, massive black dongs.
Stitch on 3/9/2007 at 16:36
Much love for both your write-ups, even if by now the rest of the forum is all "WE GOT IT ALREADY"
I should get my final chapter posted Tuesday :cool:
