Break in the Bay

DAVE LOG
STAR DATE/REGULAR DATE: SEPTEMBER 4, 2011
SAN FRANCISCO, CA

4:35 AM: My driver is 10 minutes early, but he calls to announce his arrival. I tell him “Just a sec.” (A “sec,” in Smith terms, is roughly 6 minutes)

5:29 AM: Luggage/testicles thoroughly searched by TSA. I should get breakfast. My option is blueberry muffin or cheese bread. I opt for cheese bread. We’ll see how this choice pans out.

2:11 PM CENTRAL: The Potbelly’s in Chicago Midway has officially made my shit list.

• The girl behind the counter asks, “Which sandwich did you order, ma’am” three times before I turn around. Just woke up, not in the mood. STRIKE
• This teenaged sandwich maker tells me my order never went through, asks me what I got again, and tells me to go wait at the cash register and he’ll deliver it. STRIKE
• Five minutes go by, and he never appears with my sandwich, but he’s taking plenty of other orders. STRIKE
• I go up and remind the kid that I still exist, and he quickly hands me a bag. It’s like he was waiting for me? I leave, find a seat in the cafeteria, remove the wrapping, and it is nothing what I ordered. Ordered roast beef, got chicken and cheddar. EJECTED FROM GAME
• I approach the counter, say, “HEY,” throw my sandwich down on the glass, and give the sandwich makers the business. The kid gives me my sandwich, and then I turn around, click my watch, and the entire Potbelly’s explodes behind me.

3:20: PM Central: I’m thinking about what I personally learned on this vacation. I was hoping to learn something about myself by traveling alone. I honestly can’t think of a single thing.

7:14 PM Eastern: Back home in my Queens apartment. Dropped off my bags, took a shower, gave some gifts, and ate some food. It feels good to be home. Time to lie down.

***

DAVE EPIL-LOG
STAR/DATE REGULAR DATE: SEPTEMBER 6, 2011
QUEENS, NY 

I went into this trip with a question on my mind: What do I do next? I had no great epiphany, but this trip did several things for me. It gave me:

• A clear mind.
• A new environment to explore.
• Rich food.
• Time to think about my friends, family, and career.
• This blog, which will undoubtedly help me when I eventually forget what I did on this trip.

Ultimately, I got 10 days to do whatever I felt like doing, and yeah, it felt good. I woke up leisurely, I was never in a rush, and I spent my days exploring a new city by day and unwinding by night. I bought some memorabilia, but it’s all crap. I can’t say I have any new friendships from it, but I do have some good memories.

But I won’t just remember “the good” of this vacation. I’ll definitely remember sitting at my luxury suite the desk on the top floor of this bed and breakfast, feeling guilty for even having the means to enjoy such a vacation—one I constantly felt I didn’t deserve. After all, it’s not like I had just earned a job. And I’ll also always remember the tugging feeling I felt, like I was very far away from something important. New York, friends, loved ones, take your pick. But in all, I wouldn’t have made a single different decision about this vacation, and I’m glad I had it. For any of you readers out there, get me a job.

Spontaneously,

Dave

DAVE LOG
STAR DATE/REGULAR DATE: SEPTEMBER 3, 2011
SAN FRANCISCO, CA 

9:10 AM: Alarm rings. Time to do breakfast. Just gonna rest for a few more seconds.

10:15 AM: Okay breakfast ti—god dammit.

4:50 PM: I’m rushing back to the B&B to catch the beginning of this Oregon-LSU game. Couldn’t be more uncomfortable. I’m wearing a sweatshirt in the first real hot day in San Francisco, I’ve got bags in either hand, and my stomach’s bloated from eating clams linguine in white sauce, “a pretty heavy dish” according to my waitress who got her degree in stating the obvious. I hope people an employer didn’t just read all this.

9:16 PM: I go out in San Francisco one last time.

What we learned today:

• It’s more fun when you don’t know where you’re going

See you tomorrow,

Dave

DAVE LOG
STAR DATE/REGULAR DATE: SEPTEMBER 2, 2011
SAN FRANCISCO, CA

2:43 AM: Can’t sleep. Must play… next Angry Birds Seasons Summer Picnic level…

9:38 AM: Decided to do breakfast again, just because eating then going back to sleep yesterday felt wonderful. John’s first course is a white Brazilian melon which tastes like a super sweet, super juicy cantaloupe, and then french toast with chicken sausage. I talk to this Canadian guy who ends up being Anna’s boyfriend. People keep asking how old I am, and then I say, 23, and they all say, “Oh, you’re fiiiine.” What the hell does that even mean? Whatever, I’m full, so I know what I’m doing next.

2:25 PM: That was perfect.

6:17 PM: Before heading to the park, I could either go grab a bite at Paxti’s, this fragrant deep-dish pizza joint I’ve passed a few times, or I can keep watching more of this Baylor-TCU game. Man I missed college football… and this game, with trick plays, long returns, a new Vick-style freak athlete quarterback, has it ALL. This is really satisfying to watch. I can always get that pizza tomorrow, right? I’ll never get to see this game again.

7:00 PM: I research how long baseball games average. Don’t want to miss too much—the SF Giants against the Arizona D’bags, No. 2 and No. 1 in the division, respectively—but this Baylor-TCU game is so damn good. It suddenly occurs to me that I can watch the football game on the WatchESPN app. To the ballpark!

7:41 PM: AT&T Park is really beautiful, even just from the outside. The fans, however, are another story. In some ironic twist, all the most emphatic Giants fans are morbidly obese. I don’t like watching them celebrate.

7:59 PM: Watching this live baseball game feels like watching a really big TV.

8:37 PM: Have you ever noticed how many flags there are at a ballpark? All along the perimeter, there are all these flags… I don’t think there are that many countries. What’s the point of having so many flags? I honestly don’t know which one to burn first.

9:58 PM: Gotta check out some SF Giants paraphernalia before I bail. I still have people to shop for. Maybe that baby jersey? I don’t know how my brother and his wife would feel about their baby wearing a Tim Lincecum jersey that just reads “FREAK” on the back. $50?! I don’t like baseball that much. Later!

What we learned today:

• All the same ballpark merchandise can be found at a Champs store for a quarter of the price.
• Brazilians laugh in the face of our cantaloupe while they enjoy god’s fruit.

See you tomorrow.

Dave

DAVE LOG
STAR DATE/REGULAR DATE: SEPTEMBER 1, 2011
SAN FRANCISCO, CA 

1:36 AM: Can’t sleep. Must play… next Angry Birds Seasons Moon Festival level…

2:32 AM: My mind cannot turn off right now. All I’m thinking about is waking up for this damn breakfast I’ve obligated myself to.

5:56 AM: Am I seriously going to do this breakfast?

8:18 AM: Dammit, just go to breakfast already.

9:42 AM: That wasn’t too bad. Met a woman from Finland named Anna and a couple from Massachusetts. Had some strawberries, frittata, and lots of OJ. Pretty good conversation, but I still wish we could’ve moved this whole conversation to after 10 a.m., or at least moved it up to my room. Yes, that is sexual.

12:06 AM: I’m in the middle of one of the best dreams when I hear a knocking at the door. “David?” Knock knock knock. I’m fucking sleeping, I want to say. Knock knock. Click, open. “Housekeeping.” I hear footsteps walk to the window and open the blinds so sunlight shines right onto my face. “Unghhh,” I say. “Oh! David! I’m so sorry!” says John. “Here, let me close those blinds for you.” “Unghh,” I reply, thanking him. He leaves, closes the door, and locks it. Okay dream, where was I? C’mon, just let me sink back in….. Fuck. I can’t get back in! DAMMIT!!!

2:57 PM: I’m at the San Francisco Botanical Garden. Why did I bring my computer?

3:17 PM: There are some really beautiful scenes in this botanical garden, but I can’t relax because of these squirrels. I thought it was weird to see squirrels here, but even weirder, these squirrels 1) Make and don’t break eye contact; 2) Walk toward you as you walk towards them, instead of running away like normal docile squirrels; and 3) Jump out of the bushes. So basically, I’m in the middle of a heavily-forested botanical garden inhabited by an army of overly-aggressive jumping rodents, with the nearest exit about a mile in every direction. This is hell.

3:48 PM: One step into the “Garden of Fragrance”… Wow. They weren’t kidding. Also, Andre 3000 was totally right.

3:49 PM: This enormous black object, which looks like a huge bumblebee, darts right in front of my face and startles me. I step back, but I look again and notice it’s just a hummingbird. Birds > Bees. I watch the hummingbird fluttering mere feet from my face, going flower to flower almost instantaneously. Then, after several seconds, it disappears. That was cool as shit.

4:17 PM: Walking through Golden Gate Park, I’m trying to find the closest exit but I keep stopping at each map to figure out which direction I’m actually heading. But just now this blind guy, no joke, speeds past me, perfectly navigating the winding path, then crosses the street, and finally takes a perfect 80º turn at the fork in the sidewalk. This blind guy is seriously making me look like an asshole.

4:19 PM: I find this awesome little clearing in front what looks like Golden Gate Park’s version of the White House. Off to the side of the building, I see a circle of bongo players, like from that movie The Visitor (really good). I want to join but feel like they wouldn’t enjoy me lifting my shirt and slapping my stomach on rhythm.

5:03 PM: I know going in that I may regret this choice later. Not a good idea, especially on an empty stomach. I only had breakfast this morning, and that frittata slice wasn’t very big. But fuck it, I’m gonna eat some carny food at Straw.

5:24 PM: I sink into my sandwich: pieces of fried chicken breast between two waffles, filled with swiss cheese and a raspberry compote, and topped with powdered sugar. This is nuts. It is delicious though. I dip a fry in some blackberry-chipotle BBQ sauce and start laughing.

6:52 PM: This has been thoroughly one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had at a restaurant, from the food to the setting to the staff to the music selection. I feel excellent, and then I stand up.

6:58 PM: I’m walking up the sidewalk to my B&B with a stomach full of fried chicken, waffles, fries, and three beers. I honestly feel like I’m going to give birth at any moment.

7:21 PM: My eyes are rolling into the back of my head. I can’t stay awake anymore.

10:40 PM: I feel like I just drank a gallon of water and then a gallon of oil.

What we learned today:

• Sometimes we know we’re making bad decisions, but we do them anyway. Why? Because we can.
• Waffles and fried chicken do go well together, but they don’t mix. Big difference. 
• Squirrels are becoming more aggressive, and based on the activity at the San Francisco Botanical Garden, I believe we’re reaching a breaking point.
• DareDevil, 65, is a frequent visitor to Golden Gate Park.
• Breakfast is always upon us.

See you tomorrow.

Dave

DAVE LOG
STAR DATE/REGULAR DATE: AUGUST 31, 2011
SAN FRANCISCO, CA 

1:09 AM: Tickets: purchased. Friday night I’ll be seeing the Arizona Diamondbacks take on the/my? San Francisco Giants. I’m really excited for this. Key reason? This guy.

12:47 PM: Just waking up… Why did I have to finish every episode of the new Angry Birds expansion last night? That game is seriously as addicting as it is stupid.

1:35 PM: A skinny black homeless lady with a Sprite approaches me. “Can you open this for me?” Her other hand is free, but I take it from her anyway and give it a quick twist. “Thank you!!” “Sure thing,” I say. Maybe this could be my next job.

2:04 PM: I take the bite of one of the best burgers I’ve ever had, at an organic burger joint called GreenBurger’s (The apostrophe in the title is well-placed, otherwise I might be sick again). I choose the special of the day, a Mu Shu Pork Burger with a pork patty smothered in a hoisin glaze, topped with a crispy asian slaw. As my brother would say, this thing is THE BUSINESS.

2:49 PM: Yes LinkedIn, I will try Job Seeker for one month!

3:54 PM: The whole Haight-Ashbury area is an extremely confusing district. It’s impossible to tell who’s a hippie and who’s just plain crazy—they really look exactly the same and both parties ask for your money. This could really be a game show. Not sure if I’d win.

6:51 PM: Since the B&B owners are leaving for a trip to Sicily and Russia on Saturday, Joan asks if I can pay for my stay before they leave. I happily pay for the room, but then lock myself into having breakfast with them tomorrow by accident. Joan is very excited by this. “Great! I’ll set a place for you then! We’ll be sure to keep you plenty entertained!” Guess that means come 8 a.m. tomorrow, It’s Showtime. My balls ascend into my stomach.

What we learned today:

• If you’re going to stay up late, make sure it’s worth it. Angry Birds = not worth it.
• Homeless people are always worth helping, as long is their request is reasonable and non-monetary. Yes, this narrows it down quite a bit.
• Hippies are tough to distinguish from crazies, but both are extremely lovable if you can look past the smell and the inch-thick layer of soot on their skin.
• Creativity will always triumph. Thank you GreenBurger’s. 

See you tomorrow.

Dave

DAVE LOG
STAR DATE/REGULAR DATE: AUGUST 30, 2011
SAN FRANCISCO, CA 

10:14 AM: I wake up from my first memorable dream in a long time. I’m at my old camp, where, in real life, I spent nearly 10 years as a camper and counselor. The camp is giving out its annual awards, but instead of sitting in the audience, all the winners and honorees are waiting directly underneath the stage like in Gladiator. They save the worst award for last (not sure why this is an award): It’s for a traitor, or someone the whole camp has been taught to hate. I think, “Please don’t call my name,” but I know they’re going to call it anyway, and sure enough they do. I bow my head and ascend the stairs onto the stage/arena, where I’m met by boos and hisses. The faceless camp director shakes my hand—again, not sure what I won here—but clearly it sounds like they’re going to kill me or banish me for life, so I speak up and address the crowd one last time. I go on a diatribe about how unfair the camp is, how they can’t take any criticism, and that I “did what I did” because I actually love the camp, etc. etc. People interrupt me and I purposefully stop the speech to yell at them, but best of all, my mom actually shows up on stage to back me up, addressing the crowd with equal anger in her voice. But then I bark at her to let me handle it—sorry Mom, but I really did have it under control. I finish my Oscar-winning speech and wake up just in time to miss another breakfast.

11:36 AM: The B&B is moving me from my room to one down the hall—probably because I’ve spurned their breakfasts thus far—so I pack my bags for the maid to move everything. I’m going to miss this room. The waterfall shower. The view. The couch I never used. The other bed I never used. The bottle of Trader Joe’s tangerine-scented body wash. The wardrobe filled with comfy robes. I set fire to the room as I head out for another day in the Bay.

1:08 PM: I’ve been circling this quarter-mile radius in Union Square, starving, trying to find a restaurant with food I actually want to eat under $40. About to collapse, I finally choose Harrington’s Bar & Grill. This place might have the most mediocre food and drink I’ve ever had. Not bad, not good, just blah. Perfectly blah, though—that’s not easy to accomplish. I leave a nice tip, but draw a sad face on the receipt.

3:20 PM: On my way to San Francisco’s premier science museum, “The Exploratorium,” I realize how badly I miscalculated my trip there. I thought this place was close to the bus stop, but I was off by about 3-4 miles. I’m getting exhausted, but luckily I hear the sound of screaming and crying kids. I’m close! Quick, to the Exploratorium! Where I can walk around some more!

4:11 PM: I think I’ve thoroughly explored the downstairs area. Pretty much like any Smithsonian, with a couple of cool additions: a tire that creates perfect smoke rings (only in SF), a giant liquid-bubble screen, and cool infrared mirrors that show how you can “tattoo” cold objects onto your skin. Going upstairs now.

4:13 PM: Did they just save all the creepy stuff for the upstairs? After getting past some boring-ass motors and batteries, I get to the ocean/animals part of the Exploratorium. The first thing I see is a giant projected image of a single droplet of sea water taking up an entire wall. In this massive droplet of sea water, you can see shadows of bugs (or bug-like microorganisms) frantically scurrying around, going in and out of frame. For the first time in years, I address God and personally thank him for Brita.

4:16 PM: The deeper I go into this upstairs area, the creepier it’s getting. I see a tank with three goldfish and start reading about how goldfish were actually a breed that never should’ve been. Chinese and Japanese people would mate carp with other fish, trying to give them specific features, like really big foreheads. Honestly, I don’t know who would want a fish with a Tyra Banks fivehead, but that’s when I notice one of the three goldfish in the tank has the ugliest mug and the biggest forehead I’ve ever seen. It looks like the Chinese found a way to mate a goldfish with Rihanna. I don’t need to speak “fish” to know what that goldfish was thinking: “Why? (Black Dynamite, why?)”

4:22 PM: The next exhibit makes two little girls scream. There are videos of two super-fast and super-graphic decompositions of animals—one of a sparrow, and one of a mouse. It shows beetles and bugs pulling the animals apart and everything. Making it worse, in the glass terrarium next to the movie screen, there’s a glass case with three real dead rats added to the tank at different times, and all of the rats are completely covered in dermestid beetles. I guess this is the Exploratorium’s way of subtly telling little kids that their days are numbered. Then, you’re dead, and you can’t fight the beetles as they crawl all over you and eat you and pull your body apart. As my brother Mike would say, “Welp, goodnight!”

4:25 PM: I apprehensively approach a table with three egg yolks and three microscopes above them. By the third yolk, you can see blood vessels still pumping fresh blood into the heart of a barely-noticeable chicken embryo. If the microscope weren’t here, I’m not sure if I would’ve noticed all this. I probably would’ve just eaten it. This is why I don’t eat breakfast in the mornings—I’m not awake or aware enough to know if my food is still living or dead.

4:32 PM: I see a glass case filled with enormous planks of wood, and a couple of magnifying glasses on top of the case. I look into one magnifying glass and a gargantuan, grotesque termite queen takes up the whole frame. That’s it, I’m getting the fuck out of here.

What we learned today:

• Science can be fun, but also scary and dangerous as shit.
• Mediocrity is incredibly difficult to achieve, but seems to be a staple at Irish pubs.
• It helps to know what’s under the magnifying glass before looking through it.
• Our dreams are like our children.

See you tomorrow.

Dave

DAVE LOG
STAR DATE/REGULAR DATE: AUGUST 29, 2011
SAN FRANCISCO, CA

1:53 PM: My stomach feels back to about 100% today, so I decide to test its mettle at the Mission District’s La Cumbre Taqueria, the famous inventor of the modern mission-style burrito. My steak burrito is delicious, but the tin foil is an absolute pain in the ass to remove. It won’t come off in one easy ribbon, just in little bits and pieces. It’s like an agonizing strip tease, but I don’t want to eat tin foil and get Alzheimer’s (that happens, right?). I finally remove all the foil off and find nothing inside.

2:07 PM: Just when I think this taqueria couldn’t get any more authentic-looking, a lone mariachi appears in the cafe and begins to play his guitar. I want to tip him a couple of pesos, but all I have are dollars, so I cut a dollar into 12.45 pieces and hand him three. I’m feeling generous.

2:27 PM: I see a place called “Blondie’s Bar & NO GRILL.” Jeeeeeeeeez

2:51 PM: After many blocks walking down Mission Street, where it’s basically just grocery store, dollar store, t-shirt store, (don’t) wash, repeat, I finally see a place worth checking out: Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. Yes, finally, a place on Mission Street with appreciation for the Muppets. I walk up and learn a few things:

1. It’s a restaurant
2. The restaurant’s interior has absolutely nothing to do with the Muppets
3. The menu is also Muppet-less, save the “Dr. Teeth Burger.”

Are you kidding me? Not a single goddamn Muppet in the place. Not even Animal! Good thing that place was closed, or else I might’ve pulled a Crazy Harry.

3:13 PM: There are so many bookstores in the Mission District. Doesn’t everyone know bookstores are about to become obsolete?

3:16 PM: I finally spot two nuns in the Mission District, leaving a gated complex. They see me and quickly run back inside. Adorable.

3:24 PM: All the construction going on is masking the noise of my burrito farts really well.

3:27 PM: Last one smelled like tin foil. Uh oh

4:14 PM: I’m walking in front of a car standing at a stoplight. A German shepherd sticks its head out the window, and isn’t panting (which is strange), but just stares directly into my eyes. It doesn’t look away the entire time I’m crossing the street, as though it knew I was Jewish. I’m the first to break eye contact, and run away.

6:16 PM: Arriving back at my B&B, I’m greeted by Joan on the stairs. First thing she says: “You know we serve breakfast, right?” She laughs. I laugh too, even though it’s not funny. Fact is, yes, I’m at a Bed & Breakfast, but I haven’t woken up for a single breakfast thus far. Two important things to know:

1. Joan only serves breakfast between 8 and 10 a.m.
2. I’m not a morning person. 

“We’ve been missing you in the mornings,” Joan says. If only she knew what kind of morning person I was, she probably wouldn’t say that. Earlier than 10 a.m., I’m legally classified a “mute.” And no offense to Joan, but I’m not waking up early for any reason this vacation. Yes, the meal’s already free, but it could be cooked by Emeril “Sexual Harassment” Lagasse and I still wouldn’t give a shit. I’m on vacation, and so is my phone alarm.

11:32 PM: I give a listen to the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ newest album, I’m With You. I sample bits of each song, but I can’t stand listening to it for more than a few minutes. I get angry about this. The lyrics are absolutely meaningless and soul-less—just like their last album, Stadium Arcadium. I used to love listening to Californication and By The Way, but the truth is, RHCP just isn’t fun to listen to anymore. Their music just feels like empty calories. It makes me sad and angry when bands take a new direction, but the new direction sucks. Feel the same way about a lot of ex-girlfriends.

What we learned today:

• Schedules are the opposite of happiness.
• Tin foil may keep burritos hot, but it defeats the purpose if it takes 8 minutes to remove.
• Loud public areas under construction are perfect for faht attacks.
• Places that advertise Muppets but can’t promise Muppets are ultimately going to hell. (You can replace “Muppets” with any word you want, and it still rings true.)
• Bands can evolve and grow to disappoint you (see: RHCP, Coldplay), but at least you can always revisit their glory days by throwing on an old CD. Can’t do that when people change.

See you tomorrow.

Dave 

DAVE LOG
STAR DATE/REGULAR DATE: AUGUST 28, 2011
SAN FRANCISCO, CA

9:22 AM: I’m awoken by a violent feeling in my stomach. I make it to the bathroom just in time.

9:27 AM: Well, now I’m officially starving. If I get dressed, I can make it downstairs and get the breakfast I’m entitled to, hence the benefits of staying at a Bed & Breakfast. However, that would involve putting on clothes. I lie down on my bed as I consider my options.

12:36 PM: I wake up. So much for free breakfast.

2:35 PM: After hours of looking for a restaurant that doesn’t serve stomach acid, I find a flowery and decorative breakfast place called Stacks. Perfect. For a pretty cheap buck, I get delicious eggs, bacon, potatoes, and a bagel. I chase it with a tall glass of orange juice. Doesn’t get much better than this right now.

3:47 PM: Leaving Stacks, I realize I’m way too full and exhausted to go have another full-day adventure. Light-headed and pregnant, I retire to my B&B to contemplate the next day.

6:01 PM: Just finished the ESPN 30-for-30 film, “Pony Excess.” Loved it. One of the best and most important sports stories—everyone absolutely needs to see this film. What’s sick is that this kind of cheating in college recruiting is still happening today. The only solution is to pay college players a salary—college athletics is a multi-billion dollar industry run the equivalent of slave labor. The greed of these schools forces another trip to the bathroom.

What we learned today:

• As long as there’s money involved, people will always be incentivized to cheat
• Breakfast would be the greatest meal of the day if it were in the afternoon
• If you’re going to only going to eat one meal in a day, don’t gorge on BBQ pork sandwiches and beer and Irish coffees. You’ll regret it the next morning

See you tomorrow.

Dave

DAVE LOG
STAR DATE/REGULAR DATE: AUGUST 27, 2011
SAN FRANCISCO, CA

9:30 AM: My alarm goes off.

12:36 PM: I wake up.

4:27 PM: After several hours of exploring Embarcadero Street, I reach Pier 39, the first real tourist trap I’ve found since getting here. First store I see: a place that sells only crystal objects, not-so-obviously called “The Crystal Shop.” Before entering, I put on my blindfold and roller skates

4:33 PM: I set eyes on a store called “Enlightenment.” High hopes at first—but no, just another Indian store. More golden statues, incense, scrolls, and scarves. They have katanas here, which seems cool at first, but thinking about it, that’s completely against the whole idea of enlightenment.

4:38 PM: My first excursion into a left-handed store. I thought these things only existed in The Simpsons. There’s left-handed can openers, ladles, and measuring tape… the only thing that makes any sense is the left-handed guitars. The store’s slogan is “I may be a lefty but I’m always right.” How incorrect and arrogant left-handed owners are. (P.S. Did you know Charlemagne was left handed? I always wanted to know that, and I’m sure you did too)

4:44 PM: A little girl, no older than seven, does the best British accent for her mom I’ve ever heard. “Can we go to the mooooovies?” It’s absolutely hilarious… wait, she’s actually British. Nevermind.

4:52 PM: I see dozens of sea lions basking in the sun on a number of floating platforms near Pier 39. There’s an enormous crowd watching and reacting to every little bark and shift in movement of the animals. If I didn’t have my phone and a gift in my pocket, I’d jump in the water and try to befriend them all. Sea lions are basically amphibian dogs.

5:05 PM: Checking out the S.S. Jeremiah O’Brien, but wish I gave a shit.

7:09 PM: Absolutely exhausted from not eating anything all day, I stumble into The Pub at Ghirardelli Square. Yes, Ghirardelli Square is an entire block owned by the best chocolate company in the world, Ghirardelli Chocolate Company. But I’m extremely disappointed to learn my pulled pork sandwich will have absolutely no chocolate in it. I wish I could leave without paying the bill, but don’t I always?

What we learned today:

• iPhone alarm clocks are generally unsuccessful
• The S.S. Jeremiah O’Brien needs a new paint job or a roller coaster or something
• Charlemagne (also Ben Franklin and Queen Victoria) was left-handed. And look where that got them—last time I checked, they’re all dead.

See you tomorrow.

Dave

DAVE LOG
STAR DATE/REGULAR DATE: AUGUST 26, 2011
SAN FRANCISCO, CA

11:28 AM PACIFIC: I meet my landlords for the next 10 days—a sweet old couple by the names of John and Joan. They show me their terrier with black curly hipster hair covering its eyes, and I know I’m in San Francisco. Joan takes me up to my room, and it’s enormous… at least for just me. Two beds, a couch, and an enormous bathroom. I feel like Kevin McCallister in Home Alone 2, but there is a serious lack of Tim Curry here. I guess San Francisco’s not perfect after all.

12:13 PM Pacific: My jacket would be perfect right now

1:30 PM Pacific: I duck into a store to find some gifts for my loved ones. I start chatting with a cute Indian girl who works there, but then I realize I’m in an all-Indian store, and there’s no way in hell any of my friends or relatives want a miniature golden Buddha statue or one of their thousands of silk scarves. So I want to leave, but at this point, the girl is really trying to help me find a good gift. I sweetly shirk her suggestions of necklaces and wooden boxes and golden statues of other deities that CLEARLY don’t exist… It takes about 15 minutes to leave the store as seamlessly as possible, but I still feel guilty anyway. Thus the life of a Jew.

2:13 PM Pacific: I walk into an indoor mall off Market Street and am immediately greeted by an Italian dude standing by a kiosk. Human contact is at a premium this far in the trip, so I listen to his pitch. But then, this guy makes me realize how much I need a face peeler and moisturizer. I’m gonna cut to the chase: after much haggling (again, Jew), and even trying to leave, I bought the damn face peeler. It’s called OroGold, which is a completely redundant name to begin with, but it’s basically moisturizers and peelers infused with 24-karat gold. Somehow the warmth of the metal…something something… whatever, I bought it. It’s my vacation dammit and I’m allowed to make incredibly stupid mistakes. Luckily, people pay hundreds of dollars for this, and I got him to give me $189 worth of stuff for $40. Dad would still probably shake his head though. Anyway, the persuasive Italian salesman says his name’s Koby. That’s where he lost me. What a cop-out, his last name’s probably Briandt.

4:25 PM Pacific: Thank God for iPhones. Where the hell am I going

4:55 PM Pacific: I’m the only witness as a mean-looking and tattooed female Walgreens employee drops about 20 rolls of paper towels in front of me. We stare at each other for a second. Then I sigh and start helping her pick up the towel rolls. “I hate doing my job,” she says to me. “I hate you doing your job,” I reply for some reason. Trust me, it sounded more cutesy than mean—I guess this is my auto-affirmative response. But just in case, I quickly apologized for sounding borderline offensive so she wouldn’t beat me up.

8:10 PM Pacific: I arrive at the Absinthe Bar, but it’s way more crowded than I anticipated. Absolutely no bar space… and I don’t want a table to myself. I’m only one person, that’d be weird. So I talk to the hostesses who tell me there’s a 45 minute to an hour wait for tables. But, one hostess says, there is an open table that seats just one person, and it’s in the dining room. I think, why not? Immediately, I’m led to a table for one, which looks… weird. Single dining room tables are for people like Abe Froman and that fat Italian guy who exploded in that Monty Python sketch. But there I am at the table, and I feel like I’m an executive or the boss’s son or something. It feels like special treatment at first, but in reality, the service is unbelievably normal.

Okay, so let’s recap what we learned today:

• Elephants can wash themselves; obese people cannot.
• Airport WiFi is the devil
• The TSA is as strong as its weakest link (today: me)
• Black people can be trusted with luggage; jury’s still out on computer bags
• Mistakes are okay if they have bits of 24 karat gold in them
• Nobody wants to buy those mini Buddha statues. Especially not me

See you tomorrow.

Dave