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Published: October 16th 2006
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Powell & Market St
The other end of the Cable Car line! This is it. The next bed I will be sleeping in will be my own, not counting the long plane flight over the Pacific Ocean (plane seats were never ever made with sleeping in mind). At the very least, I get 10 or more postcards and send them home, my final calling card from the land I had dreamt of being at for so long.
My sister wanted a postcard with a difference - a gay one. Not happy with the hunks in the golden sands of California, I set off to the Castro to find more gay paraphernalia to send home to my little sister.
I catch a Muni from Powell St all the way down to Castro St, on the way noting that American cities had been really good at introducing light rail to complement other forms of transport in their cities. The Muni is below ground all the way to Castro St but will soon rise out and act like a streetcar the rest of the time. I rise out at Castro and find some really awful postcards that will be great to send home to not only my little sister but a few other
The Castro
more oftenly lampooned as "The Gay Area" friends as well.
On the way back into the city, I catch a streetcar that is known as the F market. Historic streetcars that have normally been superseded by the Muni’s modern fleet service it. The seats are simple, the doors need to be pushed open and it rickets all the way to town.
I get off at the piers (thank God for my all day Muni pass) and walk around looking for something inexpensive for dinner. There are a few fishermen on the pier looking for their own dinner, ignoring the sign of high toxic levels in The Bay.
Later on, I catch a bus that takes me through some streets behind Jackson Square before we enter Chinatown. San Francisco’s Chinatown really does make you think you’re in China! People are driving crazily everywhere and there’s a mad rush and hustle just to get on the bus. One stop of this and it’s just way too much! I have to get off here but I hear the familiar sound of cable car screeching up the hill.
I could have waited for another F Market streetcar at the pier to take me straight around to the
other end at Fisherman’s Wharf, but instead I hungrily sneak onto the cable car with my Muni pass (it works here too!) and off we head towards The Bay again. It was hard work walking up a few hills; that Study Boy at the hostel must be super fit…
It’s mid afternoon by the time the street car gets to its Hyde St terminus and if I don’t find anywhere else to eat soon then I am going to pretend that this cable car is made of chocolate. Even the cable car workers have uniforms that are brown like the tastiest sweetest chocolate you could ever have. However, my Hooters radar is going off the hook as I locate Hooters just opposite one of the piers that will be able to satisfy my huge hunger!
In 6 hours from now, I am going to leave the country and it’s the “last” everything…last cable car ride, last bus ride, last Miller Lite drunk…and with the amount of food that the lovely waitresses are serving, this could possibly be my last meal for quite a while! Hooters in Las Vegas, Hooters in Toronto and Hooters in San Francisco, wow, what
Bye Bye Castro
with the huge Pride flag in the background a trip!
My sister rings me up and wonders what the hell I am doing in a Hooters’ at 3.30pm on a Monday afternoon but I tell her to relax because my plane doesn’t leave for much later. Then I remember its an international flight and I have to check in at least 3 hours in advance, not to mention the distance and time it takes to get to the airport, SHIT! I eat as much as I can, careful not to be like the poor sod at the bar who just chundered his guts all over the bar and make haste for airport, via the hostel…
I do make it in time for the airport and sit around trying to blow the rest of my Verizon credits texting everyone that I know. Once that is done, I hit up the Duty Free store and make the most of my cigarettes quota for a workmate who has been craving Camel Hard Lights ever since he heard that I was coming to the states!
Finally there’s my US money to be taken care of. And what better way to take care of it than in SFO’s bar! It
Baz took this photo.
I swear, he did! Filthy bear! turns out that THIS will be my last pint of Miller Lite, watching my last Monday Night Football game. However the time comes close to board the plane and yet there are people waiting to get on but there’s no announcement. Finally there is an announcement to say that instead of the plane leaving at the advertised time, instead it will leave at 12.06am. Many people groan, but its straight back to the bar for me!
I meet a guy at the bar who is travelling to Perth to meet his girlfriend. It’s a long distance relationship and he has seen her only three times the 14 months they have been together. We both discuss the beauty of Perth before he gets up to leave to check if the plane will be leaving soon. Another American guy sits next to me and we chat heaps about Australia and rugby league, comparing it to the farce that is on the television at the moment. Some idiot comes in between us and wants to try the beers on tap and not pay for them, and the barman tells him to get lost.
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