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I went to San Francisco this weekend in what has become a
regular trip. I’m starting to
understand the feel of the city. A
few quick words on SF… The
homeless situation is completely out of hand. I remember what New York was like in the early 80s. San Francisco has that beaten hands
down. Every block has someone
drenched in their own urine talking to themselves. Mentally ill people sleep in doorways all over town. I don’t know if the sheer expense of
living in San Francisco drove them crazy or an indication of how crazy they
are is to stay in a city with dodgy weather and lots of fog. If I’m homeless, I hop a freight to LA where at least the
weather is good while I shuffle around in my filthy urine soaked pants. I’m pragmatic that way.
San Francisco is so expensive, I have no idea how anyone
actually lives there. I had a $27 breakfast,
which was a bowl of cereal with yogurt and an espresso. I felt like I got off cheap too. It’s an amazing city, maybe America’s
best, but I don’t know if I’m a good enough counterfeiter to pull off printing
up enough hundreds to live in my own squalid one bedroom apartment there. I’m hemorrhaging money the second I get
off my flight. I’m going to work
on throwing a baseball 96 miles an hour with my left hand as it seems as a member
of the Giants I could probably afford a 500 square foot place with a garage
space somewhere in town.
I spent the weekend drinking fortified wines in a windowless
conference room in a Holiday Inn in pursuit of the WSET Level 4 graduate
fortified unit degree. It’s sort
of an odd way to spend two days.
Imagine if you will twenty people in a room debating the acidity level
of a Madeira, a wine that NO ONE actually drinks. In fact, I think because we sampled four of them, the West
Coast Madeira sales figures went up 20%.
Right now there are a couple of guys on the island of Madeira 600 miles
off Portugal saying “Ricardo! Look
at this report! We are up
20%! San Francisco is embracing
our madeiras! We must make
more! At last the tastemakers have
found us! Whip the slaves! We must have more wine!”.
I took a break and went to the men’s room. There was an enormous ballroom next door,
which was hosting a conference of some kind. There was an air of apprehension in the people. It had the feel of some kind of self-help
retreat. I sized up the people
talking in small groups. It looked
like a group of people that had met with a lot of failure and had decided to
pick themselves up and make one last try.
There had been many days of darkness and little hope. Now they were taking a chance. Maybe this would be the answer. When I went in the men’s I happened to
walk in the same time as a balding skinny guy with really bad teeth. “So… How’s it going for you today in session?” I told him I was well but I wasn’t part
of his group. I asked what he was
doing. “It’s a seminar on
communication… How to communicate
better… interpersonally mostly…” I
felt sad. He just didn’t fit in
and was trying as hard as he could to find his spot. There was no seminar that would help. Something was just off about him.
I told him I was in a wine class. He took it to mean I was getting loaded and added an awkward
“hahahaha”. I told him it was learning about wines he’d probably never heard of
in seeking a high level certification. He asked what kind of wines. I answered Fino sherries and 20 year tawny ports. He stared blankly flashing his yellowed
teeth with wide gaps at the gum line.
He had no idea what the fuck I was talking about. He made me uncomfortable. He probably makes everyone
uncomfortable. I offered him good
luck on his workshop, both of us knowing how it would end. He said “Always
trying to get better!”. See you
later. I walked out and noticed a
woman crying in a chair listening to an older man, both of them wearing stick
on nametags. I went back into the
class. There had been a PX sherry
poured while I was gone. I felt
sorry for the guy with the teeth.
It flashed into my head that maybe he felt sorry for me as he was
finishing washing his hands as I exited.
That’s the kind of town San Francisco is…
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