Just back from almost 3 weeks on the road in NYC, Portland and San Francisco. All round an absolutely fantastic trip. Hard to beat NYC Blackout 2003, Portland OR at 80 and sunny, and a solid week of debauch in my home city of San-Fran-fucking-cisco. This is a long one!
New York city was a bit of a blur as usual. Arrived Monday and despite having promised myself that I would rest, drink tea, do yoga and sleep, my man Loren Marsh dragged me out to visit our favorite (and only) bartender Heather at Double Happiness. If I wasn’t happily under 35, I know Heather would have a crush on me. She drank her homemade Alize thing and shot the breeze with us until we stumbled out in the night. Loren barhopped us back up through LOS and somehow I made it back to my hotel, not sure when. A couple of days went by (working) and I found myself in a little Domincan bodega up at 109th and Amsterdam, eating oxtail stew and some little kid next to me says “estas borracho.” No way man, I am drinking un refresco, ni alcol!
Thursday I was in the office pecking away when the lights went out. Funny thing, I had just bought a new phone the day before, and the Russian guy was saying, blah blah blah it’s got a radio, it’s got this it’s got that… I was like, I don’t need a frigging radio in my phone, but whatever, OK. Well, when the lights go out in Manhattan we were glad to have that magic little radio phone gizmo. The mood changed by the second as we learned the extend of the blackout… uptown… Brooklyn… Jersey… Connecticut… Cincinnati… Toronto… Detroit… holy shit. we all piled out onto the street and headed either home or for the nearest bar. I stood at 34th and Broadway for a while just staring at all the people in the street. 
walked up to the hotel — lights out. I was on the 12th floor and not anxious to do multiple trips up and down the stairs… across the street to the pub… ran into a couple of acquaintances from work but had more fun talking to strangers… later on got through to my friend Cailtin on a land line and agreed to meet at Times Square at 9:30… Nothing like seeing stars in the sky in Times Square!
Bought some candles and a gallon of water at the bodega across the street and camped out in my hotel room that night… great view from the roof terrace of the Metro Hotel. The next day the city was gradually coming back on line, but we still didn’t have power below 42nd street, so I walked uptown a bit to get some food and try to make some phone calls… Met an interesting guy sitting in Bryant Park — everyone’s favorite midtown outdoor space in NY, and an example of some truly excellent planning. Nobody went to work that day, and so I just walked around looking at things and talking to people. I meet more people in New York City in three days than I meet on the west coast in three months — and not just during massive power outages. The difference is the social fabric — New York has one, we just about don’t.
Met up with Loren again Friday evening and walked around looking for bars etc with power. Wandered over to the west village and watched Jaws on the bar TV with a small crowd of other citizens. Beautiful. Then down into Tribeca for some reason and had an absolutely brillant dinner at a Belgian joint called Petite Abeille — mussels, steaks, wines, everything. And they had Tintin paraphenelia all over the place!
The power finally came back on in the hotel late Friday night, and so I got a shower before grabbing my plane at 8am Saturday morning. Quick stop in Madison for 24 hours, and then back on the flying carpet to Portland, Oregon for AdMonsters IX.
Three days of conference work, which I do enjoy, but it’s a bit of a change from some of my other personae. Caught up with many good friends and colleagues, had absolutely fantastic weather in Portland, fantastic hotel, great dinner at the Portland City Grill, and the conference came off best yet, excellent feedback all around. Although internet advertising isn’t exactly my “life work”, I’m proud to be the social engineer behind this unique professional group.
I stayed on after the conference for a day, had dinner with an old old friend Becky Walter and her husband. What a couple — pro bicycle racers, ace designer for Nike and he’s a high-end corporate jet pilot.
Friday in SF: had a spot of work to finish up… my friends Richard and Pam Ault were kind enough to put me up (put up with me), and let me use their home office for the day. Saw their new daughter Abby again briefly — she’s put on about 20 pounds it seems.
Checked into the Metro Hotel (now, isn’t that strange — same hotel name in NY and SF) on Divisadero… Question: why for gods sake are all the hotels in San Francisco clustered downtown, where nobody in their right mind would want to stay? And why is downtown San Francisco a place where nobody in their right mind would want to stay? Fine questions both, but the Metro is a fair alternative, centrally located, cheap, and with an excellent French restaurant downstairs, but lacking A/C, tub, and other amenities that say “hotel” to me.
Off to Place Pigalle on lower Hayes for drinks. This is one of my favorites locals in SF, with the fact that they don’t have a full license (i.e. beer and wine only) offset by the smoking-OK policy, pool table, back lounge, and well-mixed crowd. Quick dinner (well, I had breakfast), at Flippers, and then off to see Las Ultrasonicas @ Bottom of the Hill. Jen made the call to head over there — well done — and I said absolutely! because my old friend Guido has been working the door there for almost as long as I can remember. Nothing like a little local treatment at the best Friday night gig in town. $10 saved at the door x 3 buys a few rounds. Well done Guido the pizza man.
Saturday in SF: What could make for a better day than a double date at the nude beach? Lucky me! and it was a beautiful day south of Pacifica on the coast.. full blazing sun and hot enough to swim in the cold Pacific water. Of course, I overstayed my pale welcome in the sun and spent the next 24 hours coating myself with Aloe & Lidocaine. So worth it though.
Stopped by The Ramp on the way back into the city for burgers and beer, everyone was out there Salsa dancing in the sun. Too bad the old Mission Rock is gone, and the Ramp’s no replacement, but it ain’t half bad. A few cold showers later and I made it down to John Sloan’s place for a big chili cookoff and reunion with the UK end of the wrangler clan. John broke all the rules and shacked up with his London roommate Ellie (?), even dragged her all the way back to SF. Lovely girl, although she did look a bit frightened. John’s cousin Julian showed up with his charming wife Vicki as well, excellent to see them, and John does make a mean pot of chili, although his years in London have resulted in something much more like a curry than any chili you might run across here in the States. Needless to say it didn’t help with the sunburn.
Sunday in SF: sunstroke. very difficult to move. late brunch of fruit and yogurt only, and then some sort of biodynamic smoothie. trying to detox and stay cool. walked around Crissy Field and the Marina a bit. at least 20 kiteboarders out off Crissy once the wind came up. Well done boys.
Monday in SF: up at 5, in a cab to SFO, flight to Seattle, in a cab, 2 hour meeting, in a cab, over to Capitol Hill for a very quick visit with Julie Chiapelone her husband Oskar and their new son Calvin — very cute in his orange jumpsuit.
…in a cab back to SeaTac, flight back to SF, in a cab and finally back to the hotel. I have to work sometime I suppose… a quick nap and then out to dinner with Vasco and Kitty at the Blue Plate with a couple of friends of hers. Vasco has a year to go for his Masters in Architecture at UW Seattle, and it seems that Kitty is supporting him in the meantime with her labors as a goldsmith. Quite right too. The Blue Plate ain’t half bad when you feel like spending a bit, I had the pasta which went well with the wine.
We made it through dinner, collected Marc and headed for the Bhudda Bar. I’m passingly acquainted with the bartender there, and watched in horror as he knocked back shot after shot of Frenet Branca. Foul stuff, that, but I wasn’t drinking it.. or was I? Some of the crowd disappeared and we crossed the street to Li Po. I seems that both of these places have been discovered in recent years (appearing in none other than the Lonely Planet guide to SF), but hipsters become invisible once you’ve had enough cocktails.
The night wouldn’t have been complete without a late night visit to the legendary Seward Street slides…
Tuesday in SF: over to Dogpatch for the best breakfast in SF at Just For You. It’s true from coast to coast: lesbians make the best breakfast, even when they have Mexicans doing the cooking. John Sloan used to make us drive across town to have breakfast at some Chinese-Italian greasy spoon in Polk Gulch, but JFC is the only place I’ll drive crosstown for breakfast with a hangover.
I rushed over to Marin to have lunch with my mom, just back from a month or so in France — lucky girl… and then back to SF in time to head to North Beach for drinks at Tosca — truly a classy joint, even though we didn’t run into Sean Penn… and then a nightcap at Specs… by then I was at the end of my second wind, and needed some sack time.
Wednesday in SF: over to my place to fix the fucking sink, and then down to lower 24th St for lunch at Taqueria Vallarta. Not one of your usual Mission St. taquerias, Vallarta is just the slightest bit cleaner and more sit-down, but not even as much as Los Jarritos. They served up the best plate of Puerco con Salsa Verde that I’ve ever had, and Lola had a mean plate of grilled dorado — both for about $5.50 and far more than any one person can eat. Highly recommended.
That afternoon I headed up to Ameoba for my annual music shopping spree. I finally had to buy a stereo when I got back to Madison today so that I could give all the new music a proper listen. Check out Turbonegro — Norway’s answer to AC/DC (?). Along with chick rock, I have a thing for Scandanavian metal and rockabilly. One of these days I’ll make it to Swedish Rockabilly Paradise — legendary. On the other hand, I just listened to Anouar Brahem Trio: Astrakan cafe — the farthest thing from Swedish rockabilly and some incredible sounds.
Interesting planning side note: the city of SF has been quietly replacing 2- and 4-way stops in the upper Haight with — get this — roundabouts! This is absolutely amazing is you’re aware of how rare roundabouts are in the U.S. — and how common they are in much of the rest of the world. A roundabout is a far more efficient way of getting cars through a 3- or 4- way intersection, since it doesn’t require everyone negotiate who goes first from a full stop. Americans have been typically timid about making use of them, but I think they’re cool, and I’m glad to see this small innovation happening in my home town.
John Sloan had packed his girl back off to London, and so we all met up for dinner at Ella’s Spaghetti Shack out on Mission and 29th. Having been gone from SF a full 8 years, John was surprised to find even slightly tony, hip restaurants in the Outer Mission. Ella’s is great — don’t fall for the fancy plates, stick to the $6 spaghetti and you’ll be happy.
Garc came down to the Make-out Room for one last set of drinks before I had to get on the plane the next day. We had a scare coming in when it appeared that there might be a troupe of night poets on stage, but they were wrapping up anyhow and left us to drink in peace.
