American customs are supposed to be hard. That's what they say. They're supposed to interrogate you to within an inch of your life, make you feel like you have the GDP of Columbia up your bottom and a machine gun in your backpack. What they're not supposed to do is wave you through with a cheery smile and a "have a nice day". But they did.
Did I mention we got upgraded to business class? It's been quite an amazing few days.
From the experience of finishing work for a whole year to finally realizing you're not coming back this way for some time. Saying goodbye and trying to get your head around it all. It's been like trying to follow what the 'ell Russell Brand is 'awn abowt.
During the train ride into San Francisco, I couldn't quite grasp the surrealness of the situation. Like Peter Kay and garlic bread: San? Francisco? San Francisco?
So, we went for a walk. We stumbled upon a Taiwanese Barber shop quintet in Union Square and munched on Taiwanese tamales (aren't tamales Mexican?). We got accosted into buying almond chocolate brittle at the Port of SF (not really that hard a sell, if I'm honest). We followed the maddening tourist crowd to Fishermans Wharf to get our accents mimicked by a pneumatic breasted grandma in a jewellery shop with more energy than the national grid. We watched 300kg seals bark at each other from pontoons. We chatted to a yoga teaching space cadet called Amanda in a small bar on the water. She thought Australia was "totally cool", and to show it told us "Nicole Kidman".
On the way back we did some grocery shopping. Why would anyone ever need to buy a small bucket of butter?
By 7pm, it was all too much. Back at the Hotel Frank, it was all I could do to eat dinner before jetlag claimed me. Alas, there was to be no Saturday night fever for Stu. At least, that's what I thought.
Bless my bungled body clock. It's just decided that midnight looks enough like morning to justify a wake up call. The question now has become; is it time to hit the town? Hmmm.
Click here for all the SF photos
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
3 comments:
The best martini i have ever had was in San Fran. A little cosy irish pub (one of the oldest in town), the bartenders were awesome too, even gave Taz and I a bed at his house one night, very friendly guys!!
Little Shamrock
807 Lincoln Way (at 9th)
San Francisco, CA 94122
Telephone: (415) 661-0060
Hi Guys,
Glad you have made it to the US of A safely.
Hope you have sampled some of San Fran's famous CHOW-DA
What wifey said, the little shamrock is an awesome pub..... enjoy
Good to see you both arrived safely and no doubt in fine fettle after 13 hours of classy business in business class.
Tell us more about business class? What was the ratio between passengers and staff? Did you order a meal at a strange time of the day? Did you have a sleep in your fully flat bed?
and what about the Mile High Club? You must join, you have so many opportunities to join it would be a sending-off offence with a 3-month ban, if you didn't join!
Have fun
Post a Comment