…but I did go to San Francisco.
My brother, Rob, has flown over for a two week holiday and to join me on my road trip for that period of time.
I had timed my road trip to coincide with his arrival in San Francisco over the weekend. I was based just outside SF the night before and so I had the great experience of seeing the Golden Gate Bridge appear before me, sticking out of the clouds, as I drove through the tunnel on HWY-101.
I got to the airport way early. I had with me a sign reading “Mr Philips”, partly for amusement and partly in case it was really busy. It was neither busy or amusing.
We made straight for the hotel, the Phoenix, in the Tenderloin area of the city, or Little Saigon as it is also known. The hotel, although pretty cool (it’s pool was supposedly designed by Andy Warhol) was in a very dodgy area.
Within one hour of hour arrival and general wandering to establish where we were, we saw numerous people smoking crack – I clearly saw the crack pipes. We decided it was not a place to wander at night – we would get taxis when needed.
The hotel was like an oasis in that it was totally enclosed from the street and had a really nice restaurant attached. They had a pool party on the Sunday afternoon, so we got to hear some ambient tunes spun by decent DJs, whilst the local cool crowd hung out, danced and drank. At times it was a bit like a hip-hop video, as quite a few girls in bikinis danced around and posed for photos.
I tried to take some photos too, but the rum and coke had taken it’s toll and none turned out well.