Discombobulation

We leave tomorrow on the first leg of our journey towards Las Vegas. We've spent 48 hours in San Francisco and a very interesting 48 hours it has been too. Condensing it into ASCII to transmit it seems likely to do it an injustice. I doubt very much that I have the skill as a writer to convey the depth of the experience. I can but try.

The first person we really met on arrival was a bum. Oh, we met the taxi driver and the hostel reception guy. But the first person we honestly didn't have to interact with, but did, was a bum on the street. The four of us had been debating the merits of walking versus taking a taxi. Not that we really knew where we wanted to go but we figured that a taxi driver might be able to help us.

"hey man, you got a light?" "er, us?" "yeah you guys, you look cool, I like your t-shirt man, you got a light?" "er, yeah sure", "cool, so you got smokes then... can I have a smoke?" "er, yeah".

Now you might be picturing someone with 6 plastic bags, a beard and a funny smell. Please believe me when I say that nothing could be further from the truth. The truth would be that having travelled for nearly 24 hours straight (and I'll bitch about British Airways another time), you'd probably have picked me for the bum rather then him. I noticed he was wearing a watch nicer then just about any watch I've ever worn. The area is an assortment of porn video stores, dingy bars and massage parlours. A heady mix!

"what are you guys doin?" "Looking for a taxi." The argument has been settled as an incidental. Cue this guy leaping around the place to find us a cab, practically endangering himself in the process with 4 white Irishmen standing there both gobsmacked and mortified in equal measure. Inevitably he attracts a taxi and herds us across the road. "Hey man, hey I'm not a bum you know, look at my watch dude, I'm not a bum. You got a dollar?". We pile into the taxi and the hispanic cabbie looks at Niall O'C quixically... "Where to dude?"

"Elsewhere".

San Francisco is an open air asylum. A zoo. A celebration of the outlandish. A veritable Carnivalé of the Bizarre. Its really quite a sight during the day. Riotously coloured flags loudly proclaim gay-friendly establishments; rollerblading pizza delivery agents whizz past while transvestites play pool and quaff pints unselfconsciously. Punks share the BART trains with corporate America. There is something about the rich tapestry of diversity that appeals to my sense of joie de vive but while it is fun to watch it tick to its own unfathomable beat, it can be a test of endurance to interact with it on any level. We are strangers in a strange, strange land.

We've gone on a self-enforced poker fast, an abstinence made all the stranger since poker is the reason we are all travelling to Vegas, the reason we know each other in the first place. The psyche of the poker player is laid bare as we play pool, for money. We play Klagg (a trick based game), for money. We bet that Dave will lose Niall's baseball by the end of the day. 5 dollars. The strange thing is not that we are betting money, its that the money is irrelevant. Its pocket change really. A means of keeping score more then anything and scoring is what its all about. (If you are wondering, I'm ahead in the pool and lagging badly at Klagg.) We've come to the conclusion that we are basically incapable of enjoying a game for its own value without becoming competitive about it.

Food here is delicious and expensive. Most things here are expensive in fact. Extremely so. We remind ourselves that the portions are huge and already I feel for the first time in my life that maybe I should do some exercise once in a while.

Late on the last night of our stay I steel myself and go for a long walk around the neighbourhood. The city has changed into a darker ensemble, slipping on a sleazier little number to appeal to the creatures of the night. Its an uglier city but nonetheless a genuine side of San Francisco and if I wanted to experience life here I can't complain or look away now simply because its not all Beach Boys and surfing. Drink deeply or not at all.

The number of homeless here is phenomenal. They literally outnumber the remaining citizens and it occurs to me briefly that forming their own army of vagrancy and marching on the rich is a scarily possible proposition. The breadth of despair is not a pretty sight. Its contrast, so stark against the vibrance of the day is more shocking for all of that. Where do these people go during the day when we awaken? The answer is they blend in and become "us"...

Back in the hostel I meet a guy from Ireland, between Letterkenny and Derry. He and his friends are poker players. The world really IS too small. The jealousy is vibrant in their eyes as I explain my job and our plans. I have to admit that I must agree with them, sometimes this job can expose you to an ugly side of humanity but I'd be damned if I'd return to a desk job now. Its true what Oscar said in the interview, the best thing about poker is the experiences it leads you to off the table. The travel, the people, and breadth of life we are exposed to.  San Francisco has been amazing in many ways, good and bad. Its a phenomenal city of mixtures and contrasts but I'm looking forward to being on the road again...next stop, Yosemite.