TALES OF A RELUCTANT TRAVELER
8/3/91 Saturday
The flight from Lake Charles to Dallas was as uneventful as a flight can be, if paying someone for the privilege of shuffling aboard a winged tin can and waiting for an unavoidable, horrible, crash can ever be truly uneventful.
When I boarded the plane and searched for my seat I found it already filled by a 67 year old, black, 2nd grade teacher, who was wearing her best red Sunday school dress. I squeezed past her into the window seat where my gibbering was interrupted from time to time by ‘Praise Jesus" whenever the pilot did something right; taking off, handling turbulence, landing.
After deplaning in Dallas I caught the shuttle bus just like I knew what I was doing. I panicked though (I always feel like once they get you on the shuttles that they won’t let you off again, and you circle the airport on the shuttle bus until you turn into a skeleton ) and got off at the first American gate the bus came to, and then walked the eight gates down to my gate of embarkation. I sat smoking furiously while chewing Nicorrette © gum (trying to build up a sufficient Nicotine overload to let me make it all the way to San Francisco without gnawing my arm off) while trying to guess how many of my fellow passengers were (a) gay and (b) HIV positive and wandering if I should walk down a few gates to pee before getting on the plane. I decided to walk down a few gates and my bladder decided that the closest men’s room was probably best.
As I returned to my seat they called for boarding so about 180 HIV+ Centurions (Hail Caesar, We who are about to die salute you) and I shuffled on board, When the death march was completed we taxied out to the end of the runway and stopped and turned off the engines. Air traffic control in San Francisco refused to let us take off. Fog and rain had traffic backed up in San Francisco for and hour so we just sat and perspired. Unbelievably hot. Unimaginably scary.
I arrived in San Francisco at 8:00 P.M. instead of the 6:53 advertised by the airline and was another hour collecting my luggage and getting to the hotel, the famous St. Francis hotel, across from Union Square Park.
I’ve stayed in hotel rooms that cost 12.00 a night and I’ve stayed in hotel rooms that cost 212.00 a night-and every one of them feels like a hotel room. In the more expensive rooms the offensive artwork on the walls is less garish and the carpet is thicker on the floor, but they all share a common desolation, a lonely sameness.
8/4/91 Sunday
I awakened before the alarm and showered, shaved, and dressed and ate breakfast before 8:00 A.M.. Plenty of time to take the Wine Tour, but inertia, thrift (why pay 40.00 to see only two wineries when I’m going up there for days next week) and more than anything else the feeling of being a stranger in a strange land paralyzed me, sending me to my room to hide until 9:30 or so when the tour had safely left.
Shame forced me out of my room. I toured the hotel; the lobby is breathtaking. Black marble columns and balustrades, brass caps for the columns and a vaulted ceiling. I hope my pictures came out. I walked around the outside of the hotel in a futile attempt to remember where the Walgreens Darryl told me about was.
I wandered around Union Square trying not to notice the homeless, the street people, and the pigeon shit. How delightful it must be to live in a city with a history and with pride ( As I sit writing this I am struck again by the cosmopolitan nature of this city).
I’m eating breakfast at the hotel and everyone with whom I’ve interacted has an accent. The Maitre’d is Phillipino, the waitress Italian, and the bus person rude. It was very overcast, misting and cool. Not too cool for short sleeves, Not too cool for Ken.
After I went back to my room for a jacket I came back downstairs and stood for a while on the corner trying to figure out how to ride the Cable Car and then took off looking for the Cathedral I saw In a photograph at the Travel Agent’s office. I didn’t find the Cathedral, but I did find Walgreens. At Walgreens I purchased film and batteries for my camera. Now that I could take pictures I was ready to go. So I did. Right back to my room to hide. Actually I prepared the camera and then hid until after lunch. I wasn’t really hungry so much as guilty, and guilt drove me out of my room for lunch. I ate, and then, before I had a chance to talk myself out of it I went and stood in line for the Cable car. When the line started getting uncomfortably, unavoidably close, I broke rank, bought a day pass, and walked back to the hotel. Even before I got there the image of Karen appeared above my left shoulder and started berating, so me as soon as I got back to my room I grabbed my jacket [I left it in the room after lunch] and went back and got in line. Shortly I was in a Cable car, but unfortunately I was inside rather than a "standee" and could not really see very much.
The Cable Car stopped at the end of Hyde Street with Ghiradelli Square to my left and Fisherman’s Wharf to my right, I took pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the city looming over me. After running through a roll of film I set off looking for the Cannery. I finally found it, found the Wine shop, was impressed, but left without buying anything but promising myself that I would be back,
I found Pier 39 from Pier 40. I could see Alcatraz, Seal Lions, and people all somewhere else. I walked over to join the Sea Lions and the people. Alcatraz looks forbidding. Other than the Sea Lions you can keep Pier 39. The Carousel was pretty, but the rest: of it seemed to be to be a permanent stationary carnival. The stores were a little bit more upscale than the booths at a carnival, but the help were all carnies. I wouldn’t shop the stores in Lake Charles, I didn’t in San Francisco.
It took me a while but finally I found Scoma’s, but I wasn’t hungry so I promised myself that I’d go back. I walked back to the line for the Cable car and it was horrible, about a three hour line. After an hour and 15 minutes I decided to try my luck own a MUNI bus. I had a day pass for all Bay Area transport and I could see a bus seemingly waiting there at the bottom of the hill for me. I got out of line and walked over to the bus where I could see the out of service sign on the window. I had to walk up two blocks to catch another bus. Those hills are steep.
I got on the bus and couldn’t figure out how to get off. When I finally saw a street name I recognized I got off just to keep the driver happy. We had circumnavigated San Francisco twice and he had taken to turning around in his seat and staring pointedly at me at every stop. He would eye me with the same suspicion that old Mr. Rahbany did if you were still in his shop within 15 minutes of closing time
I started walking up Market from MUNI kiosk to MUNI kiosk and looking at the maps of the city inside each kiosk. I had to find out which street Market was crossing, find the St. Francis, and figure out where I was. I could force myself to stay in a kiosk long enough to locate two legs of the triangle before I would have to leave for the next kiosk convinced that homeless people with AIDs had noticed me and were rushing over to cut themselves and bleed on me. This went on for fourteen blocks when I saw the Nordstrom building at the end of the Cable car line. I walked the two blocks over and three blocks back to the St. Francis, ate dinner and came back to my room. My feet hurt.
8/5/91 Monday
First day of the conference. Registration was in the Grand Ballroom, It was.
The first session was a three hour discussion of worms, viruses and other scary things. It was unmemorable. The hotel served us Prime Rib for lunch. Rare and juicy, it was great. I came back to my room and dealt with a cryptic message from the office. I went back for a session called Beyond Spreadsheets Using P.C.s for audit software. There were some interesting ideas but we’re more advanced and better integrated than the instructor
The last session of the day was on auditing P.C. operations. It was led by a huge bull dyke. The class was a waste of time. I came back to my room and relaxed for a while then went out looking for New Joe’ s, I had to walk all the way around the hotel before I found it. I realized just how sore my legs were .
I had grilled fillet of sole with artichokes in lemon basil butter. I found the sole to be a little more fishy than I care for, but on the whole I enjoyed it .
8/6/91 Tuesday
Two sessions today on control and security of networks. I learned how much I need to learn- The sessions were separated by a talk by Cliff Stoll, author of The Cuckoo’s Egg. Great speech. I really want to read this book. After lunch I had bank business to do over the phone.
After the sessions I came back to my room and grabbed my camera and set off walking looking for that disappearing Cathedral. I didn’t find it, but I did find China Town. I found China Town to be mostly just there. As many tourists as heathen Chinee and an unspecial aura about the place. The climb back up to the St. Francis was a killer. Dripping sweat I stopped at Dewey’s bar in the hotel and had interesting beers from California micro breweries. I came back to my room and dropped off my camera and went down to the St. Francis Grill here in the hotel. I had braised Pacific salmon in lentils with wild rice, broiled tomato, eggplant, a stalk of broccoli (am I not supposed to eat the garnish?) and a glass of Vichon Chardonnay. All of it was good. After dinner I went back to my room to roll from side to side and moan about how much I had eaten.
8/7/91 Wednesday
I had trouble sleeping last night. I found it too warm in my room. I don’t believe my air conditioner is doing anything. I opened my windows this morning to get some cool air, but I’m not too hopeful, the forecast high is 80’. Wouldn’t you know that I would come to San Francisco in an unprecedented warm streak.
I had Huevos Rancheros for breakfast in the Dutch Kitchen and found that I liked them (it). After breakfast I made the mistake of buying cigarettes in the hotel gift shop. They were almost $3.00 per pack and I was floored.
I have three sessions scheduled for today; Micro Computer Audit Software update, Risk Assessment for Auditors and P.C. Tools for the I.S. Auditor. "I am looking forward to these sessions: If I can get almost anything out of them it could pay for the trip.
I got a lot from the risk assessment session, somewhat less from the other two. I couldn’t hear the speaker for P.C. audit software and couldn’t see the slides for P.C. Tools for the I.S. Auditor.
After class I grabbed my camera, hopped the Cable Car and headed back to the Cannery to buy wine to be shipped back to Lake Charles. As I was walking from the Trolley to the cannery a fellow stopped me, flashed a badge, claimed to be an undercover police officer and tried to ticket me for looking at the girls passing me on either side of the street. When I asked him to repeat himself he changed tack and tried to get me to make a donation to a social movement for homeless children. With one hand holding my wallet in my pocket I told him that his ID looked bogus and that I thought he was trying to scam me. Boldly he told me not to worry, he understood, and disappeared into the crowd. I walked on to the Cannery and bought wine
I strolled down to Scoma’s for dinner. When I checked in at the Maitre’d’s desk the young lady at the desk when hearing my name asked "As in Calvin and ,..?". I had never seen or heard of the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip so I stood there feeling and looking stupid after asking what", and getting a five minute description of who and what Calvin and Hobbes were.
I spent the hour wait drinking beer and Irish whiskey. When finally seated at a table for two I tried to take my jacket off while still seated. I had trouble getting my right arm free. I was at last able to jerk my arm out of the jacket; unfortunately though, an old and wrinkled Japanese busboy (he must have been 80) walked by my table at the same time, and when my hand came free of the jacket it (I) punched him in the stomach and knocked him into the next table. He got up, brushed himself off, and came over to my table and apologized for getting in my way. I had already placed my order so I could not flee in embarrassment. I had Oysters Rockerfeller a la Scoma. They were great even though the spinach was not adequately rinsed and was a bit gritty. Two hours later as I walked out I was half out the door when I heard "Good night Mr. Hobbs". I was so shocked the desk person said it again. I am impressed with her memory.
After dinner I walked back to the Cable Car terminus pleased with myself. I was in San Francisco, had bought wine I couldn’t normally find and had enjoyed a good meal. I took about an hour and a half to move through the line to the Cable Car, but finally I got to board as a standee. I’ve done it now, but it was a mistake. My arms were exhausted by the time I got to my corner, and I was almost scrapped off the side of the Cable Car by an iron pipe sticking straight up out of the street in the middle of Powell Street. I had to jump out of its way or it would have pulled me right off of the Trolley.
While I was walking the one block back to the hotel I smiled and nodded at a young woman I thought I recognized from the conference, and kept on walking. She walked towards me and asked " Would you like to have me?". I had already walked past her when the words registered, and when they did and I turned back around I could see signs like thought balloons growing out of her head shouting "AIDS, HERPES, SYPHILIS... GET YOUR AIDS, HERPES, OR SYPHILIS HERE". I turned around and fled into the hotel and back to my room.
8/8/91 Thursday
Only one session today, but a long one - 9:00 to 5:30 with a break for lunch. "Audit and Security concerns in a UNIX System".
Best session of the week. I believe I can port many of the control tests directly over to the Novell network. I bailed out of the last hour and a half of the session today; I was on the verge of falling asleep, I went back to my room for a nap before dinner. I have dinner reservations at Victor’s for 7:00 P.M..
I left my room at 6:20 to go to Hastings, the men’s store attached to the hotel building so that I could buy a tie to wear to dinner. ‘Jackets are required for gentlemen", I assumed that ties were required also: They weren’t, and any one of the ones that I didn’t bring would have worked. It was just as well though, I had fun watching an attractive young lady of oriental heritage try to find a tie to match a black and gray Houndstooth tweed jacket and white with blue stripe button down oxford dress shirt. She was hilarious in that she took finding a tie seriously and I had fun watching her. She scuttled around the store and came back with about forty ties draped over her arm. One by one she held them up to my chest and would keep or discard them until she had the selection narrowed down to six. Then I got to choose from the six she had settled on. She was also gracious enough to laugh about my one requirement, that the tie be a Tall and Fat tie. We finally settled on a red with gray stamp Hartz, Schaffner & Marx tie, and I managed to not stagger, drop my jaw, my wallet, and my composure at the $65.00 price tag. After I convinced the salesgirl that I didn’t want to stand in the middle of the store and put on my new tie I bolted back upstairs to my room. once there I tied my new tie, (too short of course) and went upstairs to Victor’s.
I was about fifteen minutes early for my reservation so I paced from window to window until I ran out of patience and entered Victor’s about ten minutes early. When I got through the entrance way I couldn’t find the floor captain’s station so I panicked and fled back outside to pace and smoke until 7:00. I guess I thought that the Maitre d’Maison would appear to take care of me if only I wasn’t early.
At 7:00 I briskly walked in and saw the captain’s desk at the end of a long hall of tables. (Since the hall had no windows and the tables were small, close together, and jammed up against either side of the hall, I’ve always assumed that the poor bastards that had to sit there were the ones who came without a reservation). As soon as I saw where I was supposed to go I remembered Darryl’s description and felt the fool.
I reported to the Captain’s desk and suggested that I had a reservation for 7:00 for Ken Hobbs, H O B B S. "Ah, Oui Monsieur Hobbs, Enjoy your dinner" from a Septuagenarian who handed me off deftly to a hostess-in-training. I wasn’t offered a choice of views, and I wasn’t offered a smoking table and I meekly took what I was given. I ended up with a view of the Bay from just south of the Bay Bridge, over the city, to the San Bernadino mountains which were snuggled up against the horizon.
A waiter brought over the menu and the wine list, and I had not yet chosen an entree when a deputy sommelier arrived. I chased him off and went back to studying the menu and the wine list. After fish Monday, Tuesday, and Shellfish Wednesday, I was getting tired of the ubiquitous seafood in San Francisco, though that didn’t really leave me with a lot of choices. I was able to narrow the selections down a bit further by a preference for red over white wine for dinner. I finally settled for either a grilled fillet of beef in a wine vinegar sauce, or medallions of veal in a port sauce. When I asked my waiter about the wine vinegar sauce (I was afraid that it might kill a wine) he was able, after I pointed it out on the menu, to affirm that it was a wine vinegar sauce. That settled the question. I had the veal.
The deputy sommelier cautiously approached and asked if I was ready to order. I asked him to recommend a Pinot Noir to go with the veal. He recommended a 1988 Hacienda Estate Reserve. I quickly checked, and it wasn’t the most or the least expensive wine on the list so I took it.
While waiting for food to begin appearing on my table I sat munching the freshly baked Sourdough rolls that seem to be everywhere in San Francisco. Victor’s version were short baguettes served with whipped creamery butter. Slathered with butter they were delicious and I ate all my bread while waiting for my salad. Unfortunately I had failed to trim my mustache before leaving Lake Charles, and had not brought scissors with me. This resulted in my leaving a patina of butter on the trailing edge of my mustache after every bite. As most men with big and bushy mustaches are, I am aware of the possibility of losing food on my upper lip so I diligently scrubbed at my mustache with my napkin between each bite. I was completely through with two baguettes and well into the third before I realized that I had been picking up my new tie with my napkin and scrubbing at my butter crusted mustache with it. I almost threw my neck out jerking around to see if anybody had been watching.
Dinner Was:
Victor’ s Caesar Salad
Medallions of Veal in a port sauce with a medley of young vegetables. Among them I recognized baby green beans, immature asparagus, immature acorn squash, immature zucchini, baby corn, a julienne of white mushrooms, and a clump of something else. I never asked what the something else was, as I enjoyed it and I was afraid it might be either something’s brain or something forced through a Goose.
Evian Water
1988 Estate Reserve Hacienda Pinot Noir. Very nice, fruity with a hint of cherry flavor as the first glass breathed. Unfortunately the various Gunga Dins kept refreshing my glass, and it seemed a little dulled after each fresh pouring.
Chocolate Mousse Cake with Raspberry sauce and
A glass of Grahams 6 grapes vintage character port.
It was all wonderful, and by the end of dinner I grinning maniacally and cackling just for the pleasure of it all. The veal was great, the chocolate mousse cake in raspberry sauce was superb.
After dinner a new and heretofore unseen Gunga Din offered me coffee. I bargained him into giving me an ashtray.
"May I offer you another coffee sir."
"No, but if you’ll find me an ashtray I’ll have a glass of port."
"Why not." he said and an ashtray and 6 grapes Oporto appeared.
Along with the port I was brought balls of dark chocolate and tea cookies which had been half dipped in chocolate. I had cigarettes, port, and chocolate, my belly was full, and I’d a full bottle of wine. I was content. I didn’t even catch my breath at the bill, 87.09, but I’m afraid I under tipped just so I could make it an even $100.00.
As I dined a thick fog crept through against the mountains growing slowly thicker, taller, but only a little wider until the mountains were hidden under its blanket. Though I didn’t get to see fog roll in and obscure the Gold Gate Bridge this was a good second best. I floated down to my room in a dark purple haze every bit as thick as the fog descending on the city. All the lights in the city seemed to come on at one time during a blink of my eyes.
8/9/91 Friday
When I awoke I found bill prepared for me and shoved under the door. All well and good but I’m not scheduled to leave until tomorrow. I told them that when I checked in, and my reservations were supposed to make that clear.
I made sure that I had a room for the night and joined the day trip to Levi Strauss and Co.. The tour was an utter waste of time. When I got back to the Hotel I prepacked for leaving and sewed up the hem on two pairs of pants. Though the tour was a waste of time there were some interesting management philosophies .
For the most part this was a wasted day in San Francisco. After packing I read for a while and tried to nap but couldn’t get to sleep. I was contemplating checking out of the hotel, but I would have had to pay for a night anyway. I also contemplated using my return trip ticket for tomorrow. I think I’ve talked myself out of that. I still haven’t reserved a room in Napa yet, I hope that doesn’t prove to be a mistake.
At 5:00 I went downstairs to the Compass Rose. When I got there the entire lobby was changed; renovations under way. This confused me so badly I left the hotel and started looking for the Corona Bar and Grill. I didn’t find it. I got lost. I wandered around ‘til 6:45 when I found the hotel again. I came back to my room to cool off, and then went downstairs to the Dutch Kitchen for dinner. I had fettucine with Andouille and Scallops. It was only so so. After dinner I returned to my room. It has been much a wasted day.
8/10/91 Saturday
I awakened, finished packing, and went downstairs to the Dutch Kitchen for breakfast. Again I had Huevos Rancheros. On every trip I take I seem to discover some new breakfast food that I’m compelled to eat everyday ‘til I get home. On my way up to my room to gather my luggage and check out I stopped by the Hertz rent a car booth in the hotel lobby. I still had no reservations for a place to sleep in Napa, but assumed that if there were no empty hotel rooms in Napa County I could drive over to Sonoma County and find a room there, after all it was only an hour’s drive to Napa and only half that to Sonoma from Napa. As the line in front of me diminished I was prepared. I had rented a car before. I knew how it was done. I had successfully navigated the rigors of car rental only four months earlier on my ill fated trip to Stuart, Florida. The line cleared out completely and I was next. Visa and drivers license in hand I stepped up to the counter,
"May I help you sir?"
"Yes, I’d like to rent a mid-size sedan please. For a week."
"Certainly sir. And when did you want the car?’
You know that there are some situations in life that confront us, for which we have no answers. This was one of them. It reminded me of pulling up to the infernal speaker box at the burger doodle and ordering a cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke, and being asked if I would like something to drink with my order. After stunned moments of bewilderment the only choice one has is to admit that they were planning on drinking the Coke .
"NOW, Today, right after I check out. "
"I’m sorry sir, we won’t have any cars available until Monday morning."
It hung me up. I simply couldn’t conceive of a car rental agency not having cars. Defeated, I went back up to my room to regroup. Once there I perused the yellow pages and determined to my satisfaction that the Hertz office in the lobby was not the only car rental agency in the city. Then in one of those decisions we sometimes make that in retrospect seem to have made with a certain goal of failure, I decided to check out, and go to the airport to rent a car.
I checked out, caught a taxi for the airport, and started up the aisle of 14 different rent a car booths in the main lobby of the San Francisco Airport. After 6 I gave up. There were no cars to be rented in San Francisco that weekend. Something big was happening, I’ve never been quite sure what.
I guess that I could have regrouped. I could have found a bus. I could have stayed in the city until Monday morning. I didn’t. After being turned down by the Emerald rent - a - car hippie, I turned on my heel, did not pass go, and went straight to the American check in window. I checked my luggage through to Lake Charles and started off to my gate to wait. Half of the way there I decided to try the other 9 agencies in the building. I was in San Francisco and only a few miles away from wine country. I had nothing to loose by staying no matter what it took. As I turned to go back to the lobby I realized that I also had no way to get home if I didn’t leave now. My luggage was checked. My ticket to fly back a week later was packed.
Dejected (relieved?) I turned around and trudged to the gate. I have no memory what so ever of the flight back. I still have my one-way ticket from San Francisco, to Houston as a souvenir of the week I didn’t spend touring the wineries.