What I Did On My Vacation

My wife, of Cantonese origin, always wanted to see San Francisco and its renowned Chinatown. I had never been there, so we decided to make it our vacation destination in late June. The only mistake I made was flying out there on United Airlines. I had a couple of bad experiences with them years ago, but not one to hold a grudge, and tired of browsing the seemingly endless string of flights available online (but never one that gives you what you really want), I finally chose one that had us flying out on United. We got to Denver OK, but for a while it looked like that was as far as we were going to get.  We were ready for the scheduled 3-hour layover in the Mile High City, but wouldn’t you know it, the plane that was to take us the rest of the way never arrived. Ninety minutes later, they sent one that was too small to accommodate all the passengers that had booked seats. After getting some to agree to postpone their flight in return for cash rewards (to be spent only on future United flights), we lined up for boarding. But wait. Not so fast. We can’t board after all. The United scanner doesn’t want to read the boarding passes, so the flight crew person must manually type in the code on each pass (after futilely trying to scan each one, just in case the scanner decided to start working again). So it took us another hour or so to get on the plane. Then after another 3o minute delay (I don’t remember what for), we were on our way. A 3- hour layover ended up taking 6 hours, but so what? It’s 3 hours earlier in Frisco anyway, right?

Once we arrived, we took a cab to our hotel and headed straight for Chinatown. We were greeted by dancing dragons and loud gongs. Alright the party wasn’t really for us, but it turned out that the National Mayors’ Association was having their convention in the city and, wouldn’t you know it, they had reserved the best restaurant in the neighborhood just for them. Undeterred, I told the security guard that I was the mayor of Columbus. He looked me up and down, and apparently decided that sport shirt and jeans said otherwise. We were not admitted. Instead we ate in a basement dive populated only by locals. They offered us a five-course meal for 38 bucks – a real steal, especially considering San Fran prices. So what if the crab was deep fried to the point that very little edible meat remained? It was filling.

The next day we walked over to Union Square which features a painting by Tony Bennett, the venerable vocalist who famously left his heart in the city. There we purchased a couple of tickets on a hop-on-hop-off tour bus which enabled us to see a lot of Frisco in the next two days. The city is only 7 miles long and 7 miles wide, and between the tour bus and public transport, we covered most of it: Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman’s Wharf, Pier 39, Lombard Street, Haight-Ashbury,  Alcatraz (from a distance) and everywhere Joe DiMaggio did anything. We also saw Francis Ford Coppola’s Zoetrope Studio in North Beach. There was a 1930’s era Rolls parked out front with a couple of guys wearing zoot suits hanging on it, but no sign of the director himself.

Maybe the best thing about San Fran was the people. They were friendly, talkative, and from all over. We met a Turkish woman at a sushi bar in Japan Town who told us all about her family and how the war in Syria is creating problems for her homeland while simultaneously tossing back California rolls and generously sampling the plum wine. A cab driver we engaged in conversation immediately asked me what part of New York I was from. When I told him I was born and raised in the Bronx, he said, “No kidding, I’m from Pelham Parkway.” When he turned off short of our hotel and had to circle back, he stopped the meter and the rest of the ride was free. One evening, we asked a bus driver if he was going to Union Square. He replied, “I don’t know. Get on.” Somewhat puzzled, we did so. He called up his dispatcher to find out if he could take us there. “This bus always goes to Union Square,” piped up a passenger. Driver: “Oh, so you’re going to tell me where I’m going?” We sat down while the two of them engaged in a spirited discussion about whether the driver or passenger was better equipped to determine the vehicle’s destination. It turned out that the driver had made an unscheduled stop when nature had called him earlier, was behind time, and had to negotiate his ultimate destination with the dispatcher. While this was being done, the passenger who had volunteered his knowledge of the route, educated us further: “You know, seniors can ride the bus for free.” I didn’t know that, but since I was only a visitor, I couldn’t take advantage anyway. He also verified the impression we already had that the city was great, except for housing costs. The average price of a home is a cool million, and even a one bedroom apartment goes for about $2,700/month. We expressed our appreciation for the information, and hopped off as soon as we got close to our destination.

One day we rode the bus all the way out to Ocean Beach. The Pacific looked beautiful, although the only people actually in the ocean were dedicated surfers in full body suits, because the water temperature was in the 50’s. That’s another nice thing about Frisco – daytime temps in the 60’s, 50’s at night. We were wondering about the possibility of walking from the beach to the city zoo when we ran into a beachcomber with a long beard who advised us against walking: “It’s about 3 miles and you’ll be too tired to walk around the zoo once you get there. Of course, they have benches so you could sit and rest before walking around.” We appreciated the advice, and decided to take the bus. At the zoo, my wife asked if that had any pandas, and was told only a red panda. “Red? Why red?” I offered a possible explanation, “Communist.” Whatever the panda’s political persuasion, it was not visible from its enclosure. Probably sleeping, we were told. Come back later. Unfortunately 5-day tourists do not have a “later” so on we traveled.

The only disappointment we had in San Fran was the fact that the food, which we expected to be magnificent was only very good. Not much of a complaint. Surprisingly though, the best meal we had was at the airport just before boarding our flight back (on American Airlines). We ordered a full breakfast and everything – eggs, bacon, bagel with Nova lox/onion/capers - was great. Who would have expected a meal like that at an airport? Could it be that it tasted so good because we so happy to be headed back to home sweet home? Probably not but who knows? It just shows you, when you travel, you must be open to all eventualities.