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San Fransisco-Part 1
After a quick visit with my friends in Montera, I headed through Pacifica and into San Francisco.There was a think fog in over the city as I drove in.The skyline in San Francisco is truly magnificent.The skyscrapers seem to have a hold on the entire horizon.
I arrived at my friend Kevin's house later that night.He was the nephew my old next door neighbor. We had met a few times before but never really got to know each other till this trip.
Pressed the door bell and Kev lifted the brass latch.I stepped through the front door and found myself in a punk rockers oasis.There were Ramones records, and Black Flag posters slung from the walls.Next to there TV were towers of VHS tapes made up of mostly live concerts and skateboard videos.There may have been a Ninja Turtles tape wedged in there somewhere, but you didn't hear that from me.
After settling in, Kevin offered to take me to see a punk concert in the Mission.He let me borrow his bike and we took off into the moist night air.We made our way across the city on a 40-minute ride through the cool night air.Rode through Golden Gate Park and through the crowded streets of San Francisco to a club in the middle of the Mission.We got there grabbed a quick burrito next door and made our way inside.
The club reeked of punk and stale beer.People with tattoos and piercing from head to toe mingled and drank, as the bands got ready.The first band started and began insulting the audience.I think the bass player called us all worms.Then he cranked up the amp to 11 and began ripping into power chords as the drummer bashed his symbols and stomped his kick drum violently.A short bald guy then began screaming incoherent aggression into a mic as people in the audience thrashed around violently into each other and the walls.I got slammed from the side and spilled my Newcastle onto someone's flannel shirt next to me.She didn't seem to mind though and kept on bashing as if nothing had happened.The song was over in about a minute but my ears were already ringing.The crowed thinned out and then filled up for their next 1-minute number. To save my ears and my beers, I stood in the back doing my best to peer through the sea of tattooed bodies.
We took the bus back to Kev's house and brought a few Italians that were also staying at the house. Their names were Pamela and Lorenzo and could possibly be the kindest most tattooed people I have ever met.
Unfortunately, the bike ride in the cold left me sick.I spent the next day in bed reading the newspaper and watching the first season of Curb Your Enthusiasm.
It took about 24 hours but finally, with the help of the Italians and their vitamin C tablets, I felt a bit better.That morning, I felt well enough to head into the city with all of them.
Our first stop was Amoeba records.This place was the biggest music store I had ever seen.Records and CDs from every genre stretched across your periphery.I let my eyes drift out of focus and the whole place looked like a blur of lights and shiny plastic labels.This was a musician's paradise.Lorenzo could not help himself and almost sold his plane ticket back to Italy in there for punk records that were rare in Italy.I think he walked out with almost 20 records (that was only the first time he went too.He made several trips.It became an on running joke.)I myself had some difficulty leaving a live Ray Charles DVD at the store.I stood there helpless, caressing the smooth package in the front corner of the store.I did break down and pick up a Stevie Wonder record by the time we got Lorenzo out of there.
We got in my car and drove a short distance and found a place to park.Kevin's friend who I found out later is a local punk hero around San Francisco, with was making us lunch at the Maximum Rock and Roll Magazine headquarters.This is a famous independent punk magazine in the Bay Area.
Our group squeezed through a narrow metal cage door and into an oily garage.We walked past crates filled with miscellaneous tools and old magazines..Then by a few broken down motor cycles to a door at the far end.We opened it and were cast into punk heaven.Light shone through the skylight onto thousands and thousands of records edged in green tape.Kevin told us that just about every notable punk record makes a home here.The green tape was to make them less valuable to deter theft.
Martine was already in the kitchen when we arrived preparing lunch.He served us authentic quesadillas with sour cream and guacamole.He also had made fresh homemade salsa and nachos.I have to admit that California really is a great place to get Mexican food.
San Francisco Part 2
After lunch, I drove out to Berkley to meet a girl named Star Simpson. She had emailed me before I left Boston in response to a ride share ad I had put up on Craigslist. She had asked me if it was possible that I take her back to Boston with me on the return trip. I had a gut feeling that I should meet her the whole time we had conversed over email. There has something about names on this trip so far. If a name sounds intriguing I just sorta go with it, like I did with Hope.
I met her out in Berkley at an Indian place where we grabbed lunch. When we were done, she asked if we could swing by her place. I drove a few blocks and turned left down a a peculiar looking side street. I pulled up to a long pleated steel gate surrounded by large metal containers. The top was laced in barbed wire. The gate had the word shipyard on the front in faded white paint. On the containers were odd sculptures and old steam powered art vehicles. A large 20 foot periscope peered over the wall at us which was connected to something unknown to me on the other side. I soon pieced it together. She lived at this machine shop. She slid off the chain and pushed the door open. I then stepped into a world completely unfamiliar to me.
My eyes widened as I took in all there was to see at the shop. The place was filled with gigantic art pieces and machines that did not look practical at all. Springs and gears were piled high as people covered in black stained clothes toiled around them. Bright flashes of light and sparks shot off every few minutes as we walked in-between stack of metal. Against the walls there were metal figures in weird positions, which looked like they were made for motion. To the left was a gigantic Victorian House on wheels. Through a dusty window, I could make out the top of ship wheel edged in worn wooded spokes. On the roof was the large periscope I had seen on the street.
Next to the "Neverwas" (the name of the oversized victorian house car) was another art piece. This one was a 37 foot fire breathing bug, which I later learned was called the Fishbug. It had bright orange and red colored side panels and a long graceful arced tail that looked like 2 wings. The head was made a wire cage and had two tusks projecting from the front. All along the spine were thin tubes, with what looked like steel flowers attached on the top.
In front of the Fishbug was a 6 foot gnome and propane lines running from his cone hat down his back, connecting to a big tank at his feet. It had a carved face and a bight silver jacket. JBD (one of the creators of the gnome) told me that the gnome's hat drops back and shoots a 50 foot colored flame into the air. Unfortunately, they were not testing the gnome that day despite my request. I was so intrigued by everything I was seeing. I was trying my best not to bump into things as I was poking around.
I sat down out back with Star and met a few of the artists. I had a million and one questions but wanted to relax into the conversation. All of the art they were making was going to be displayed at Burning Man. I had heard of this festival before, but really knew nothing about it. Basically from what they told me, about 50,000 really smart people go into a Nevada desert and party for a week straight. There are gigantic works of art scattered around and many have flame effects. Shameless naked people are every where. Cash is not allowed and in fact prohibited. Burning man is a gifting society. Art cars cruise around and pick up strangers. I was at the edge of my seat as they described this festival to me.Kruddy (the fishbug carpenter) called it a cultural phenomenon at one point. He also left me with you can't really know until you go there. I think that sums it up. As the conversation wore on, I almost caught myself drooling. It sounded amazing. It sounded better than amazing.
I got back to Kev's later and did some research of my own. I poked around at pictures of some of the art. I even checked out the website on Burning man. I read the entire survival guide to find out just what a person needed out there at Black Rock City.I must have spent a few hours absorbing as much as I could on it. I don't know what it was exactly (maybe the gigantic fire art), but I felt drawn to this scene. I felt as if there was something I needed here.It wasn't that I knew what it was exactly, but it was more of a feeling about things to come if I continued down this path.There was a magnetic force over me. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was determined to find a way to be a part of it somehow.
The next day I called Star again and asked if I could come down to the shop again. They were hard at work getting the art ready forNevada. The festival was two weeks away and they planned to get there a week early for set up. It was definitely crunch time for all the artists at the Shipyard.
Kruddy was shaping a piece of bendy board when I got there and I offered to lend a hand. To my surprise, he said sure. We cut the board and fitted it to the back of the bug. Soon after I was in the tail with a wrench getting it secure. When we were done, I asked what was next. They seemed a little surprised but then handed me a paint roller.
The day flew by as I was given task after task. I didn't feel tired or run down in the slightest way. I was energized.It was well after midnight by the time I left. I asked Rebecca when they were meeting again and if I could come back tomorrow. She said that she would get there about noonish and invited me to come back and help.
Bright and early the next morning I woke up ready to get back to work. I packed a lunch and got ready in a hurry. The Italians came with me as they were checking out Berkeley that day and needed a ride. They popped in for a second took some pictures and looked about as wide-eyed as I did. The Shipyard has that effect on people. In fact, random people sorta pop in all day looking memorized at what they see.
Rebecca seemed surprised to see me so early. It was just the two of us there out of the crew that was there the night before. She asked me if I wanted to learn how to use a dangerous tool today. I said sure trying to sound confident, even though part of me was nervous.
We walked into the shop and she pulled out a cart with tools all over it. This is a plasma cutter she said. She gave me a quick tutorial and got me fitted with a face mask, gloves, breathing gear, goggles, and welding sleeves. I looked in the mirror and saw someone I didn't recognize looking back. I looked like a character from Total Recall.
Soon after she dragged a cart full of steel tubes with yellow, hand drawn lines on them. She asked me onee more if I knew what I was doing. I said yes and was left to my devices. Trial by fire (I didn't catch the pun for a while) she said with a smile and was off.
I connected a grounding clamp onto the first piece of steel and pressed the trigger to the plasma cutter. It kicked back on me for a second and then settled in my tight grip. A glowing torch lit and I hunched down close to the metal. I timidly brought the flame to the metal and began ripping into the steel. My eyes took a bit to adjust to the bright flame.
Hours went by and I had barely noticed I was so wrapped up in the cutting. I could feel the sweat inside my welding sleeves and inside my goggles. My body achy and tired from being hunched over for so long. I took off the gear and cleaned my work area when the last piece was cut. I looked over my work and saw pretty rough edges. I was sorta embarrassed at first and thought she might need me to redo the job. I wheeled a cart of my freshly cut steel to Rebecca who was furiously cranking wrenches and writing things down on a notepad. She looked at my work and said I was a natural. I felt like she meant it too. My aching body felt a moment of joy. But before I could do an internal happy dance, Rebecca said now its time to grind.
She again set me up with a whole new set of gear and eyewear. She clamped one of my cuts and took a hand grinder to it. Orange sparks flew as she smoothed out the rough edges of the bent steel. She turned off the grinder and touched the smooth surface with her hand. Nothing to it she said. Now you try.She asked me again if I was alright before she left. This was a lot of work she said and can be split up between several people if needed a break. I nodded.
Soon after she left, I was ripping into the course edges of my plasma cutting work from before. I pulled the hand grinder back and forth sending sparks into the air. I stopped noticing time again and got into a trance state. My entire world was a hand-grinder. Hours went by and I finally noticed that all of the steel had been grinded. I wheeled out the cart to Rebecca and she smiled and gave me a hug. You rock Hassan! What's next I said?
The next several days were similar to this, just with different jobs. I painted, cut, cleaned, grinded, sawed, wrenched, taped, pasted, organized, entertained (with my guitar) and didn't complain.I worked hours on end and was having a blast doing it.It was crunch time for them, and I think it was good for them to have me around. They had been doing this stuff for months and I imagine, they were getting to the point of burning out. There was still plenty to do though and to have someone fresh on the job that could work hard and not tire was an asset to the project. They made me feel more respected and appreciated than I have felt in a long time, and possibly ever. They were genuinely happy to have me and I was genuinely happy to be there.
I worked as hard as I could and as long as I could stay awake in return for their kindness. I was pulling 14-hour shifts almost everyday. It felt so great to be a part of something bigger than myself. Working along side some of the most creative and talented people I have ever met was exciting. Slowly I was becoming addicted to it all. Actually, I should say quickly. At one point I asked if I could just stay at the Shipyard so I could avoid wasting gas and paying the 4 dollar Bay bridge toll. Jess, the CO owner of the shipyard told me it was the least they could do for me. I had a new home on the upstairs couch at that Berkley machine shop.
As the days wore on, I became more and more involved in the project. Now I was determined to get to find a way to get myself to Burning Man. Seeing this bug in action was going to be amazing. I looked into tickets and my heart sank a bit. They were running at about 300 dollars a piece. Plus there is all the gear you need to survive the desert. I needed food for two weeks, water, desert gear, a shade structure, goggles, breathing masks, gas to Nevada and back, a head lamp, an appropriate tent and other odds and ends. This was going to be EXPENSIVE! I just kept on working though, all the while mulling it over in the back of my head. How the hell was I going to afford to go.
The project of the day for me that Friday was building projector boxes out of wood for the light show inside the brain of the Fishbug. I worked for hours trying to get it fitted perfectly for the projectors. It was bringing high school woodshop back for me all over again. I finished one of the boxes and started on the next one. Went over to the scrap woodpile and Jess approached me with an envelope. In handwritten ink on the front it said Fishbug. She smiled and said open it. I held it in my hand for a second, the slid my finger in the pocket. Inside was a ticket to Burning Man!!! It was the most beautiful ticket stub I had ever seen. It said evolution at the top and 2009. The cover had a picture of an old wise man with an exposed brain.A landscape of mystical creatures stretched far behind his portrait. On the back of the stub said gift in glossy lettering.I could feel the emotions swirling around inside me and I hugged Jess. Thanks so much I said. I meant it from my core. A few of the crew saw and started singing, you got the golden ticket, you got the golden ticket. I smiled uncontrollably and had to turn around out of embarrassment.
I got back to work and worked twice as hard as before. I felt an amazing amount of gratitude towards them. They had been so kind to this random traveler. Granted I was busting my ass.It still felt good.
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