San Fran, Day 2

Day 2, Day 2, Day 2. My most flagrant memory of day two was the drunk, pedophile that followed us around the ferry to Alcatraz. Imagine, a man. Tall, a little gangly with thinning, greasy hair done up in a scraggly, hap-hazard comb over. His clothes are a size too big and he appears toContinue reading “San Fran, Day 2”

San Francisco, Day 1.

I’m back home and have settled down. That’s a lie, but it sounds better than, “I’m still in disarray trying to pull some semblance of my life together”, doesn’t it? I ate my way through the past 4 days and did enough walking to burn at least a quarter of it off. Or, so IContinue reading “San Francisco, Day 1.”

San Fran: Memories and Pit Stops

The first time I ever visited, well the only other time I’ve ever visited San Francisco I was about 14… a freshman in high school and still bordering on that awkward phase that lasted from birth to about 15. I was one of the lucky ones. I remember wearing jeans that were much too short,Continue reading “San Fran: Memories and Pit Stops”