#Travel

San Francisco

I got into San Francisco yesterday around noon. I’ve now completely adjusted to sleeping on the bus and can do it at will. When I got here I wasn’t tired at all. I took off to see the Castro Theater and the Civic Center. San Fran’s public library doesn’t match up to the excellence that is the SLC public library. San Fran also doesn’t seem to have as many active iPod users as DC. Maybe the DC folks are still listening to the 9-11 Report. Still San Francisco can throw down with any city in North America. I think we need a new reality series built around city vs. city grudge matches.

Martha Stewart goes Urban

Helpful tips learned on the bus ride from Salt Lake City to Boise.

• When you see the police approaching and you have illegal drugs, put them in a babies diaper. They never look there.- When you want to cover up the smell of pot sprinkle Old Spice in the air and on your person. “Covers that shit right up.”- Bring a bible with you. Not only is it “that book full of knowledge” but you can rip out the thin pages to roll a joint in a pinch.

Fear and Loathing leaving Salt Lake

Salt Lake City to Boise has been the most amusing and annoying bus trip so far. I ended up in the back next to four other guys desperate to be as fucked up as possible for the entire ride. Four guys, Stephen Baldwin, the Loan Officer, Chatty and Stoner have pot, beer and this nasty sounding concoction of vodka/cough syrup/ghb to achieve this. They start off by smoking at the first stop the bus makes. They get back on the bus quite happy, flirting with these two girls, talking about how they’ve done time and how they’ve beaten drug cases against them. At one point I have to assure them I’m not law enforcement. It’s all in good fun.

High Plains and Denver

I meandered into the high plains in the rental car I got in Pittsburgh. This area is the geographic embodiment of America. The enormous, lush, rolling plains are there and ready to be cultivated by anyone that’s willing to make the effort. Their size is another key part of what strikes me as American. They skies and fields go on and on seemingly forever. My main wish is that the cities of northern Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Wyoming and so forth were walkable. They are just big enough to require a car to get around and don’t have much in the way of public transportation.

SLC Punk

I’m in the main Salt Lake City public library. This is one of the slickest libraries I’ve ever seen. The building is very striking from the outside, and the inside has a mix of library and commercial kiosks that I’ve never seen before.

I’ve been getting up to speed on the LDS church. You don’t have to walk very far in the temple square before running into someone that’s eager to help teach you about the place and the religion. They have great reason to be proud. While I’m not allowed to see the temple it is very impressive from the outside. The various other offices, administrative buildings and support buildings are enormous, ornate and welcoming.

Sick and disappointed

I’m up in Bismarck, ND today. I rented a car from Pittsburgh because I’m too sick to take the rigors of Greyhound at the moment. Although I already miss riding the bus. The other reason is that I wanted to see some of the parks, specifically all the Lewis and Clark stuff, that’s around here.

While this sickness is frustrating and disappointing I think the biggest disappointment so far has been the National World War II memorial. After finding myself unexpectedly moved by the Vietnam War memorial I walked over to the WWII memorial. It’s an oval with semi-circles of tall pillars representing the states on either end. The two ends represent the “Atlantic” and Pacific theaters of war. In the middle is a pool with fountains.

Who are these people?

How the hell do these people travel without any money? -Subway employee at bus station in Rochester, NY (or some upstate stop) Who are these people that travel around without any apparent means to support themselves? Again and again I’ve run into people who are stuck between places. They’ve run out of money, they’ve had it stolen or they’re just drifting from town to town looking for work. They represent some kind of vagabond diaspora. It’s particular to bus stations. I’ve never seen it centered around any other transportation. Bus travel seems uniquely generous in what you can cajole yourself into and inexpensive as well.

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What's in a day?

It’s hard to believe I’ve only been traveling a little over a week. Knoxville feels like a month ago. Even D.C. feels like a few weeks ago and that was just Tuesday. I have little notion of what day it is anymore. Part of that is the lack of sleep as I try to pack in as much as possible.

I wonder how your mind/body know what a day’s worth of memories is supposed to be. If I keep up this pace will my mind adjust and I’ll have a more natural sense of how much time has passed, or is that feeling of time passing a constant?

Ideas, some borrowed and some new

Paper lined bathroom walls This was brilliant. I saw it at Beanstreets Cafe in Asheville, NC. People had filled up the walls with writing. The discourse was above and beyond the usual “bj wanted” I see in rest areas and included spirited debate about the merits of Kerry and Bush campaigns.

Attraction oriented metro guides Washington D.C. wins hands down for easiest to use subway. It doesn’t have the flexibility of say Boston’s T or the simplicity of Toronto’s trains but they publish a three page pamphlet that tells you what attractions are at what stop. Someone should come up with their own versions of those guides and get them down in the train stations.

Recently Overheard

Waiting for a bus to Boston in the freaking enormous NYC bus terminal:

Random ranting bus guy: “Charles Manson is the son of butterball Satan. See you can spell the word Roman from his name because they served Satan and killed Jesus.”

Passenger: “What do you mean butterball? What’s turkey got to do with Satan?”

RRBG: “Well I tell you why he’s butterball Satan. One time I was in Mississippi waiting to get a haircut. I was reading a magazine. It was a white man’s magazine. That’s when I saw it. It filled up the whole page. It was a giant butterball turkey. It was Satan.”