13th May - 'Holiday Road'

Driving 800 miles in two days is no joke and apparently Seattle to San Fran in two days is no mean feat. So there, we finally achieved something of small worth.
A bum tried to get money off us then told us that people were trying to get him and could he have a ride away from the area. The other two begged and pleaded to take him but I had to put my foot firmly down and we pushed on away from this place.

Getting into California is a real treat. You come down from the snow-topped mountains and roads that are in excess of 5000ft and within 30 minutes you're in baking heat and a whole new state. I'm starting to sound like Judith Chalmers now...but the scenery is spectacular, the kind of spectacular that makes you forget to take pictures.













We went to The Sizzler, a small-town place that meant well but was, to borrow a phrase from Shakespeare, fucking horrible. It didn't matter that they got the orders wrong, the food was similar to a microwave meal and that Ian's arrived 20 minutes later than ours because when it eventually arrived the waiter made the campest orgasm noise of all time as he laid the plate down in an effort to assuage Ian's notorious firey temper and encourage enjoyment of the meal. It was the kind of 'mmmmm' that is usually followed by the word 'mince'.

We also saw crop-dusters which made us go all Jimmy Stewart.

We went over Bay Bridge just after sunset which was great and nighttime San Francisco loomed before us. I was in the back getting all giddy as this bridge was on my list and it's good to drive (or be driven) down.
We had used our Holiday Inn time wisely and booked into Parc 55 (courtesy of Hotels.com - much more on them later....) in the famous Union Square area. Wow. Union Square is FULL to the brim with not-rights. This was quite an intimidating intro to the new city but the plushness of our new hotel helped to ease our unease.
Look, we had a phone on the toilet!











'Cable guy'



A quick drink in the hotel bar confirmed that we were in slightly over our heads here.















So we ventured aimlessly out and after a bit of walking went to various ill-advised bars. A very dead faux English 'pub' and then a terrible terrible Irish bar that is typical of any tourist part of any city. Here we were treated to horrible covers of Pink Floyd and U2 by Val Kilmer and his drum machine. This picture is a fitting review of the evening...















But we weren't too concerned, we were here and had plenty of time to go to places we wanted to be and when you're going to wake up to this kind of view from your hotel window you can't possibly be pessimistic.