As yet the only place to have rivaled Memphis in the 'BPSM'* index is the city of San Francisco. As well as that though the city offered us a hotel more dubious than Pope Benedict's views on atheism and more fog than you can shake a stick at.
Having taken big hits to the body soul and wallet we all to a man felt the time was right to do something a bit more fresh-airy, with this in mind we trundled off to the Yosemite National Park. We saw a salt lake with more flies on it than made for a nice photo and some really big trees that were disappointingly not redwoods. Still no bears on the horizon. We stopped in a gateway town called Big Pine se saw nothing big nor very many pines. The one restaurant open sold me a pizza that lasted through 5 meals and 3 days.
After Yosemite we stayed a night in Stockton, a town reminiscent of the nicer parts of absolutely nowhere. We range from 60 to 99 percent sure there were gunshots as we drove into town and a trip to the local Denny's left Reid, Mecz and Faloyin more than a little shell-shocked. Owen hid in the room and watched cable televison.
Finally we reach San Francisco and check in to the ricketiest hotel yet complete with a very out of date lift with real iron gates and a door that opens while the whole thing is moving between floors. We check out a couple of parks while we're in SF and the first, the Presido, is the sight of the now infamous Deparkle.
Nobody is saying parallel parking is easy, and not a soul would dare claim that doing it in a hulking great chevrolet makes things any easier, so when TCJ Reid scraped the paint off a parked car outside the Palace of the Fine Arts it was only a surprise that it didnt happen sooner. What followed was a lengthy discussion with a man known only to us as Mr Escobar (no relation) about the relative prices of car bumper repairs on either side of the atlantic that ended - eventually - in a $125 bribe and a "lets say no more about this" handshake.
Click Here For Deparkle Photos
We also went to see the Oakland Raiders playing their special brand of American Football. Described elsewhere as "the compost heap of the NFL" - they're as close as you can get in the colonies to Millwall FC but here hitting the other team is heartily encouraged.
On the last day I visited the San Francisco city library where there were more homeless people washing in the toilets than there were people reading books and a man using a public computer in a bank of 12 freely perusing the content of a number of adult websites. Whilst I was pursuing these high intellectual pleasures L T and D were taking part in a piece of capitalism so finely tuned it makes the Large Hadron Collider look like a toilet tube with lightbulb sellotaped to it, a scheme so Machiavellian it makes Kim Tate look like Zac Dingle. And what is the dastardly tax levied against the trusting nature of the common man on his holidays? Hiring a bike and cycling over the Golden Gate Bridge. All the extortion of an 1920's gangster movie but none of the scenery - because of the bloody fog!
Also in SF - great noodle soup in a thai place near union square, Chinese food in Chinatown (not as good as Manchester's), and an extended argument with a car park attendant over a receipt.
"You never gave us a receipt"
"Yeah you definitely didn't give us a receipt"
"No sir, I gave you a receipt"
Repeat
"Oh wait, does it look like this?"
*Bums Per Square Mile
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