Notes from a Crashpacker - The last people in the world.

---

The first people I met in this millenium were 3 porn actresses.

Sprawling on a sofa, they were mocking my English accent - and I was totally unaware of their careers. Like demure, nervous school girls they were almost shy and they stuck close together. No flashy cleavage, short skirts or outrageous boob-jobs. Just 3 good friends who happened to work in what they mentioned as 'adult movies'.
Me, I was riding high from a mixture of recreational drugs, the reek of gunpowder in my nostrils and a day-long champagne marathon that started about 14 hours ago with the chiming of midnight in Sydney, Australia.

The New Years' celebrations comes late to San Francisco.

We had woken up on the last day of the last millenium in a small, colourful apartment just off Haight and Ashbury and the American news was showing the fireworks exploding over the opera house in Sydney. So naturally, being Brits abroad, we opened a bottle of something alcoholic to celebrate with our breakfast.
Me and my girlfriend Melody were visiting my oldest freind, Oli, and his wife, Lori, in Portland and had been offered the use of this hippy flat. We drove the down the west coast road in two lazy days and were settling in to San Fran life happily with its village feel and winding, crazy streets.
'Stoner Dave' lived here, he knew all the right people and his flatmate was in Vegas for the parties.

The Australian fireworks were happening just over the Pacific, on the other side of the pond, and we popped a bottle for every significant set of midnight fireworks around the world.

Sydney - POP!

London - POP!

New York - POP!

We were set to be the last people in the world to wave off the old 1900's and say hello to the 2000's.
As Sydney was waking up to hangovers, we were crowding into town.

Downtown San Fran - Crash! The fireworks exploded between the skyscrapers of Embarcadero, shimmering and echoing in the new millenium - i wondered how come none of the windows shattered - and the crowds hugged and cheered. Even the solid line of hundreds of stern faced policeofficers who guarded a central 'safety avenue' started to warm up to our advances kisses form the girls and well handshakes from the boys.
America had been fearing this millenium change - computers were predicted to crash, borders had been closed, troops were on the streets. Even as the final clouds of gunpowder were hanging in the air, the American public were trooping home and as we jostled and jumped around, kissing coppers and sharing champagne, we realised that half an hour into this new millenium, we were surrounded by Europeans! The Locals had left as soon as they could - presumably to check their computers were still working - and the Foreigners were still here - presumably to keep drinking as heavily as possible.

We gatecrashed warehouse parties in the 'Mission' Latino district - big noisey affairs with barbeques on the roof - where the mexicans knew how to party and Ricky Martins' handprints are set in the concrete. That guy has big digits.
And we cruised smaller house parties in the districts around, everyone had their doors open and a warm welcome for gatecrashers. Even ones frequented by shy, retiring porn actresses.
When I realised my position, I thought i was either going to be :

a. the luckiest guy alive.
or
b. in serious trouble with my girlfriend who was just on the other side of the party

Luckily I had a plan... Sunrise on the beach with margharitas.
Blow these parties and be the last people in the world to see the sunrise and watch the last night of a millenia fade away.

Problem was, the cocktail mix was in the flat, we had no keys and the window i left slightly ajar was 2 stories up, and my body was busy burning off a serious amount of alcohol, E's and coke.
Back at the apartment i surveyed the building - a rickety wooden built box with various shambolic extensions here and there.
I scrambled over the side gate into a shared stairwell, up the steps and out a window. Here, a fence stretched about 15 feet across from the stairwell to the rear wall of our apartment, and 6 foot below the ajar window.
It was about 3 inches wide and there was a 15 to 20 foot drop on either side.
My head was swimming with chemicals, dream of threesomes and the disco-funk from the last party

"Feet Dont fail Me Now" i thought and struck out across the thin wall.

What if a neighbour hears me and calls the police? What if I fall and break something?

"Feet Dont fail Me Now" i said, clearly.

Somehow i focussed, my heart racing and reached the wall. On fingertips, I hauled my bodyweight up and into the window.
Head rushing, arteries thumping and my first cat burglar mission complete, i grabbed the margharita mix, the tequilla and some more jumpers. I decided to leave by the traditional front door, and as I walked into the lounge, a figure jumped up from the floor, wrapped in heavy blankets, hissing loudly. It was Stoner Dave, sprung into the position of the 'Karate Kid' doing the Stork. Dave's eyes were still closed and i was facing a sleepwalking, karate hippy, wrapped in blankets.
I soothed him back to sleep, taking care not wake him, partly because we've all heard people can die from the shock of waking up like this, partly because it was his tequilla.

Me and Melody jumped on a passing bus that took us down Noriega Avenue and to the beach as the light was growing. The bus was full of chinese workers, probably going to clean the beachside houses of the rich and famous as they slept.

On the beach, the homemade cocktails were sharp and sour. The wind was cold and damp. The thin, misty clouds broke and sunlight drifted in with only a breath of the warmth that sunlight should bring.
We had made it, cheering the passing of time around the globe to its final coastfall before approaching the international dateline and starting all over again.
We may not have been the last piece of land, but surely there was no-one as stupid as us to be sitting on a freezing beach at this time in the morning?
Our beach had little pockets of party people, like us, huddling together, hoping too that possibly - just possibly - we all may have been the last people in the world to wave off the Millenium.

---