Strange weekend. Added flesh and blood to two more text-based friends, looked at art, drank a little, saw an old friend, tidied up the resume a bit, and went into a severe two-day funk from which I’m just now emerging.

Martin and David are two people I’ve been corresponding with for quite a while…one of them from Portland and one from San Francisco. Meeting both of them in one week was a good thing. I’ve decided that people who get to know each other via e-mail have a certain intelligence and sanity which is very refreshing. Neither of these meetings was of a sexual nature (although both scored well on the oh so superficial “appearance test”). It’s really nice, though, meeting someone face to face for the first time and feeling as if you already know them.

Friday: Dinner at Memphis Minnie’s, which is without question my new favorite scarfing ground in the city. Good and low-key. We celebrated my roommate’s return to the world of the semi-unemployed (by his choice). Realizing that jobs don’t have to suck is becoming a tradition on our street.

Out for a beer later on, solo. No one around. Was everyone in the city worried that the very mild “wet fog” would be a hairdo-deflater?

Saturday: Pinky and the Brain. Animaniacs. Met Sarah (speaking of text-based friendships come to life) and Martin for the new “Icons” exhibit at SFMOMA. Yer host at an art museum…imagine that… Actually, it was pretty interesting, although I remain unconvinced that lipsticks and a bar of soap from the Gap are really art. All in all, though, it was a good show.

Went to a brew pub in North Beach afterward for beers (them) and traditional Southern iced tea (me, feeling caffeine-deficient). Somehow the funk hit right around this point. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the caffeine or lack thereof.

Rotten night. Sat around the house. Read. Whined. Listened to depressing music. Moaned. Pondered going on. Passed. Went to bed hoping to sleep it off.

Sunday: Sleeping it off didn’t work, so I went to Oakland for the afternoon. I’m not entirely sure how the two are related, but Oakland always seems vaguely comforting. Bought newspapers (SF and Seattle). Flipped off a hippie in a microbus who didn’t know how to drive (or was too stoned to do so). Realized the funk wasn’t going away. Came home.

Off to the beer bust at My Place. Ran into someone who used to (a) be a really close friend and co-worker and (b) have a life. Neither is the case now, thanks to a little problem with speed. From $40,000 a year to homeless in six months. So much for harmless recreational drug use. Gave him a ride to the sofa he’s currently “surfing”.

At the beer bust. Light oral sex in the back area proved uninspiring. Ran into a recent “affair” who I’d also seen last week. Last Sunday, we had a really long and good talk and some “bonding”. I hadn’t really expected (or particularly wanted) a reconciliation. I also hadn’t expected that he’d leave with someone else while I was in the bathroom. Maybe it is possible for even a jaded slut like myself to occasionally get my feelings hurt. This week, we didn’t really even talk to each other. Probably better that way.

Missed the Simpsons. Decided to try and sleep off the funk one more time.

Went to sleep pondering the job that I don’t have (and probably am not qualified for), the romance that I don’t have in my life (I’m not referring to the one just mentioned), and the fact that things looked much more promising to me six months ago.

Monday: Resumes via e-mail. Finished moving the site to the new machine. Feeling a little better about life. The Christmas episode of the Andy Griffith Show was on this morning.

About jobs: I quit because I wanted to. I have not missed working at Kinko’s for one single minute since I left. I’ve had a pretty interesting time during my first long-term period of unemployment since 1985. I’ll get another job soon. It’s just time to get aggressive.

And on romance: I decided on my own several months ago that my most likely prospect of late was not “the one”. Our agendas were too dissimilar. Never really knew if he’d nominated himself for that position anyway. We’re still friends. And as always, I don’t want a realtionship; I want someone to have a relationship with.

Ultimately, I had responsibility for all the decisions I’m now reflecting on, and I’m now assuming responsibility for convincing myself I was right. Of course, any help is always appreciated…an email opportunity is a terrible thing to waste.

Pardon the downer. I plan to be cynically amusing again very soon.

 

Lots of sleep followed by Saturday morning cartoons, and I was off. This was the uneventful part of the trip, where I covered more familiar territory. I did see beautiful downtown San Luis Obispo as well as a really cool original A&W Drive-In in Paso Robles.

As luck would have it, traffic jams on every freeway slowed my approach to San Francisco and (once again) dampened my enthusiasm about the return. All in all, though, a great trip. Perspective will follow soon in the inevitable postmortem.

Thanks for coming along!

The trip home led me on the most convoluted route so far (on purpose, of course…). The original plan was to drive south to Kingman, Arizona and cross the desert on old Route 66, but this proved to be too much of a drive. I settled for hitting the “mother road” back at Barstow by way of Zzyzx Road and I-15. From there, I headed south through Victorville and across Cajon Pass to San Bernadino (site of the very first McDonald’s).

  

Route 66 runs across Foothill Boulevard, Alosta Avenue, and Huntington Drive as it winds its way through the “Inland Empire” toward Los Angeles. Unfortunately, a lot of what was once there has been replaced by strip mall nightmares, especially around Fontana and Cucamonga. There are still sights to be seen, however, including one of the original Wigwam Village Motels in Rialto.

In Rancho Cucamonga, a small sign caught my eye, directing me to the Route 66 Visitors Center (7965 Vineyard Avenue, off Foothill Blvd.), a museum and gift shop devoted to the road. Great place, and I spent a good half hour there poking around and talking to the “greeter”.

  

The next stop was LeRoy’s Restaurant in Monrovia. It’s been there since Route 66 was still the main highway, and still does a brisk local business. friendly, homey kind of place, with a counter (where I sat) and yet more waitresses who called me “honey” without fearing I might sue them for sexual harassment.

 

The drive through the north section of Los Angeles was daunting, but the scenery was good. It’s hard to trace a few original portions of the route, due to freeway construction. The alignment I followed was Mission Drive to Cesar Chavez Blvd. to Sunset Blvd. to Santa Monica Blvd. At this point, I left Route 66 for old Highway 101 (Ventura Blvd.) headed north. Eventually, I had to hit the freeway at the early end of rush hour. I was making better time on the surface road…

Before long, I was in the thrift store mecca of Ventura, also the headquarters site for Kinko’s. I’d spent time there before and didn’t feel the need to give it more than a half hour of my time.

Next stop was Santa Barbara, where I’d originally planned to stop for the night. I can’t adequately describe how much I hated this town. The place is nauseatingly cutesy and precious and white. There were no malls, except for a downtown which very much resembles one. The whole town was completely sanitized and reminiscent of Marin County. Nothing could have made me spend a night here.

Thus I continued on to San Luis Obispo, home of the Hearst Castle, the Madonna Inn, and Cal Poly. Definitely a little higher on the reality scale than Santa Barbara, although this was a most obvious college town. Since it was almost 10PM, and I’d been driving since 7AM, a stop was in order.

A beer or two was also in order, so I headed to the local queer bar, Breeze’s (11560 Los Osos Valley Road). Nice place, fairly generic music, and a couple of cute boys. I didn’t meet my first obsession. If anyone knows him, tell him to get in touch. I’m guessing age 25 or so, medium height and build, goatee, curly dark hair, and he won a T-shirt for knowing that ABC denied a lesbian cruise line the opportunity to advertise on “Ellen”. He drives a red car. I crave him.

I did, however, meet an off-duty DJ and fellow Mac supremacist named Glenn. He seemed a good person to pass last call with while sitting outside. I sat outside a lot; a city ordinance prohibits smoking inside bars in San Luis Obispo. I could never live there…

How to eat and drink in Las Vegas? It’s pretty damned easy, I must say. If you’re gambling in the casinos, you can usually drink free. Even if you’re not gambling, food and drinks are dirt cheap in these places (see below). The only catch is the design, which requires you to wind your way through every square inch of gaming space in order to arrive at the buffet or the bar. Marketing, y’know? Kind of like the way that milk and eggs and other staples and things you want to grab fast are always at the back of the supermarket…

As to that queer scene, Vegas is a huge closet of a town. This is most likely due to the fact that the redneck factor here is even higher than in some parts of the south. I’m referring both to the tourists and to the locals, unfortunately. A big minus is that there is no “gay zone”, so bar hopping requires some major driving. On the plus side, many of these bars are located in residential areas off the “strip”, so it’s possible to get a feel for what the natives are really like.

 

Some nightlife:

After visiting the vey snotty Inferno and the very creepy Badlands, I found myself happier at Eagles/Texas, which wants to be a leather bar, but the patrons won’t seem to let it. Wednesday “Underwear night” was crowded and fun. Tuesday “Keno night” wasn’t. Fun place, generic music. The “Texas” side resembles a set from “Gilligan’s Island”. We referred to it as the “Sugar Shack”.

I also liked Angles/Lace, which had nifty new wave videos the first night. It was a big bar with lots of rooms to explore. Wednesday was “Goth Night” in the back dance area, although the DJ’s definition of “gothic” included New Order and other 80’s new wave. I ran into a friend from SF here incidentally.

I liked Snick’s, which was friendly and cruisy and was locked (wityh patrons apparently inside when I tried to revisit late at night), and Buffalo. I hated Flex and couldn’t even be bothered to stick around long enough to buy a beer.

And then there was the Mini-David room. How could I resist a porn theatre with an eight dollar cover? Straight stuff in the “theatre”, gay stuff in the back room. Not much action, but lots of old discarded console TV’s scattered about.

  

And some buffets:

Wind your way through the casino. Pay a small amount of money ($5-8 tops). Eat all you can. Feast on prime rib, ham, and turkey. Sample Seafood Newburg, Chicken Masala, macaroni and cheese, baked potatoes, chocolate cream pie, pastries, pink Bundt cake, and more. This is how you eat in Vegas. Even the locals do it in lieu of grocery shopping. It’s cool. It’s fattening. It’s gluttony at its finest. And they have smoking sections! I noticed several patrons who were so excited they smoked and ate at the same time!

The Palace Station (West Sahara at South Rancho) was my favorite, but was also three bucks more than the Sahara (South Las Vegas Boulevard at East Sahara). Prices ranged from $2.49 for breakfast at the Sahara to $8.79 for dinner at the Palace Station. Just do it. It’s good for you.

Cheap Motels:

Once again, Fremont Street is the place to be. This was the original Vegas strip, before the monster complexes sprouted along South Las Vegas Boulevard. It’s tremendously seedy now, but it’s still obvious that this used to be “the place”. I was excited. The “highly recommended by owner” motel was my favorite. I’d stay there based on that recommendation. You?

  

Vegas Music:

Radio ranges from generic modern rock to a cool heavy metal station to a “music of your parents’ life” station. The second and third options seemed most appropriate to cruising the city.

There seemed, alas, to be no live music scene except in the casinos. I opted against paying $65 to see Huey Lewis at Caesar’s.

The background music at the Place Station took the prize, however. When I drove in, the first sound was “Feels So Good” by Chuck Mangione. Very fitting arrival music. The assault of forgotten hits of the 70’s, those songs even the oldies station avoids, continued throughout the trip. I must have heard “Magnet and Steel” by Walter Egan at least four times (although once was in a very depressing Jack in the Box in the ‘burbs).

Liberace:

The main thing I wanted to see in Vegas was the Liberace Museum, reputed to be a veritable temple of kitsch. Alas, I never caught it open, so there’s no report and no pix. Sorry…

  

Las Vegas is now marketed as a major family resort. There are carnival rides (including a roller coaster and “drop” ride atop the Stratosphere tower). There are “all you can eat” family-style buffets. There are shows and museums and any number of diversions. That’s all well and good, but gambling is what Vegas is all about. Do not be fooled into thinking that these “improvements” are concerned with diversifying the economy. No, no, no. The added attractions are designed — like everything else in town — to draw and suck in gambling tourists. Gambling is where the profits are. Period. And the “strip” casinos are where most people do it.

  

Las Vegas Boulevard is pretty amazing, especially at night. What was originally an attention-getting form of roadside advertising has now become a tradition. Strangely enough, a subdued and “tasteful” casino might be more likely to stand out now, if it could be seen through the sea of lights.

  

For a good look at where Vegas has been (and, alas, where it’s going) check out the Fremont Street Experience. The Fremont strip was the original casino zone and is the one you usually see in movies and videos. You know the one which inspires awe when you drive through it? It’s located downtown and is much more concentrated and dense than Las Vegas Boulevard, where everything is surrounded by a sea of asphalt. Unfortunately, it’s being turned into a mall. The street is now closed to vehicular traffic, and a strange post-modern “roof” has been added. Light shows are projected on the roof to compete with the neon. An 80’s aesthetic nightmare which was constructed in the 90’s. Pity.