Its always a special experience entering government buildings. Especially when your future hangs in the balance. Luckily in my case the worst that can happen is I don't get my passport and my none existent plans for Japan will have to wait for another day.
Knowing that my appointment at the State Department in San Francisco was at 8:30AM, I got up at 5 to prepare. Now before you ask, yes I choose that time out of a full day of possibilities. I even chose it on Wednesday instead of Tuesday in order to go on a bike ride in Big Sur, a further risk that might have prevented me from getting my passport on time. The bike ride fell through because my back was almost out. Apparently carrying a full size dishwasher down a flight of stairs alone is not a good idea...
After a very quick double check for all my documents, which I had contained in a normal zip lock bag, I ate a banana and got on the road. It was raining so hard that my 1 working headlight and the other one at 25%, was barely enough to let people know I was there, much less allow me to see very well through heavy rain.
As I drove highway 101 I noticed flashing lights ahead on the shoulder where I spotted a white Tesla flipped on its head, doors both blown off. Thank goodness it wasn't on fire... It immediately reminded me of one of my buddies who works for Elon, he had a Tesla on autopilot in heavy rain and it crashed itself. His insurance had lapsed a week before because he too allowed his debit card to expire. Needless to say he was up shit creek without a paddle. $80,000 down the drain.
Hopefully this newest causality of trusting your life to robots was better prepared for his near death experience, if he wasn't in fact dead from the crash. Maybe he actually was driving it and simply had a heart attack, one that certainly wasn't caused by a totally safe and effective experiment he was forced to take. We may never know...
It wasn't long after passing the crash that a sea of red lights glittering against my windshield brought me to a stop. And before I knew it, There was no way I was going to make my appointment. So, like any reasonable person would do, I called to let them know. My call was answered in three rings and I heard the following from a southern accented woman in her 50's.
"Hello, you've reached the State Department of California. My names Susan, how can I help you?" She asked.
"Oh I'm alright Susan, I'm just stuck in traffic and my GPS says ill be an hour late, what should I do?"
"That's all right, just come on in."
"Just come on in?”
" Yes."
And so I did just that. But not before being taken on a wild ride through the city by my GPS, witnessing the prelude to Mad Max in vivid color and piercing shrieks, as stains of shit, blood and vomit, hard drugs and insane ramblings could not be escaped while in the city central. Watching people smoke crack is never a heartwarming experience, but seeing it done openly on the street with their pants below their ankles, leaning on a shopping cart with toy doll heads for rollers... Well, it could easily break ones heart if they'd never witnessed it happening in their own country before, and in the once great jewel of San Francisco no less.
Luckily, I suppose, I had been well prepared for it already during my last visit to Santa Cruz a week ago, when I had to walk through skid row not once but twice during an unfortunate visit to Costco... There, shadows of former people wondered the street in a daze, people that once had dignity, and a grip on reality. Now they simply exist as batteries for their dealers, a gang of "almost there themselves" hoodlums on BMX bikes, eyes sharp and honed for the next charge. For whatever reason my friend David and I passed by unmolested, as though our very presence was beyond belief even to the damned, who would believe anything necessary to get their next fix.
I've never liked big cities, nor have I but once been a customer inside a luxury brand store, but passing by shop after shop of luxury buildings with their windows smashed and boarded up in the nicest and most historic part of town, really does something to you. I suppose that's the fate of all cities, but still. Intellectualizing the fall of civilizations is far different than experiencing it happening to your own first hand.
Shaking my head at the tragedy of it all I found a parking garage near the Federal buildings which charged a ludicrous $8 an hour or $32 for all day parking, and decided the cost was worth the price. One does not argue over dollars when the safety of life, limb and automobile are very much in question. It was a two minute walk to get inside and security was the stone face no nonsense types, but they were quick and efficient. And did not strip search me as the TSA do, so that was a bonus.
Once in line it was 10 minutes before I was seen and my documents taken. After that I was sent to another window to pay. I had the full $211.10 in exact change, but for some reason the price had lowered to $190, I wasn't going to co plain, that would cover some food and maybe some of the parking charge.
The teller took my money and asked, "Reason for your visit to Japan Mr. Maddox?" I hadn't considered it before then, I simply wanted to get out of my own life and visit someplace special, sane and sanitary. Having nothing better to tell him I did a double take on my own first inclination, and let it loose despite everything I know it to mean.
"It's Religious..." I said stoically, the mans eyes widened as if he couldn't have expected such an answer, and he stamped my passport, handing it to me said my passport would be ready by 3pm. It was 9:40. What the hell was I going to do in Frisco to kill five hours with only $30?
"Five hours is quite a stretch, got any suggestions?" I asked him. He suggested going to the cafe and lounge one floor down, so I did just that. But the food was far from Vegan, so I busted out the Happycow.net website and found The Rad Radish not a mile away.
The walk there was like being hunted by Freddy Kruger in broad daylight, every crevice of the sidewalk and corner of the street holding its own set of nightmares, and all the while the "Normie's" of the city avert their gazes, heading for the nearest locked door, safe for a few moments longer in a never ending game of cat and mouse that they will inevitably lose.
The Rad Radish is a comfortable and well decorated Vegan cafe with many tiny yet nutritious meals. I got the chia pudding and a Thai iced tea. Totaling $14.50 after tax. Like a trained Parisian I nursed my food and drink to any and all reasonable limits, sitting alone at a table for 4 as I watched the same bike delivery guy come and go 5 times and the place slowly fill up. I even saw a delivery woman with and electric mono-wheel. "That woman's got balls." I said aloud.
Finally I returned to the Federal building and waited the last 90 minutes in the Cafe 450, glad that I had not spent a dime within its cold walls, but also glad I could rest there until 3pm. It was while sitting down writing the rest of episode 2 of this blog that I saw a black man approach an elderly couple shouting at them.
“Why your woman gotta roll her eyes at my lady huh?”
Clearly the couple were taken aback. But the man was on a mission to cause a scene.
“What are you talking about?” The Elderly man asked, protecting his Asian wife who was half his height and 1/3 his weight.
“You know what I’m talking about Nigga! She rolled er eyes at my woman when she come out the bathroom.”
“Your crazy,” the elder said,” come on dear.”
“Yeah you run, you run nigga, fuck outta here. Disrespect me and my woman like that, ugh ugh, not today!”
“What he talking about!” The woman cried, “I don’t see nobody, I do nothing!”
“It’s nothing honey, he’s just a retard.”
“What you say fucker!? Yeah walk, walk away bitch!””
At this point everyone in the cafe was staring at the black man and he wondered off, feeling the eyes on him and hopefully realizing how truly insane he was being.Once he was gone several people consoled the elderly couple and one even said he was ready to fight the other man for him if need be.
“Good to see people are still willing to stand up for whats right,” the large elder man said.
Soon after this I went back to the third floor and was sent away at 2:38 Pm by the guard, who told me to wait downstairs until 2:55, but instead I took the elevator down then the emergency stairs back to the third floor just behind the door leading to security. It was there that I would meet the one man who said he would have protected the elders.
His name was Antony, a Mexican American who was there to get his passport renewed after having lived with one which had his middle name spelled wrong, but had apparently not caused him any problems while traveling, but was one hell of an issue when he tried to renew it.
He stood at the right of the door and me to the left, we joked about the security being so up tight and how they think were domestic terrorists.
“Why you going to Japan?” he asked.
“It’s Religious.”
“Ahhh, me too. My prayers will be my toes in the warm sand and a cold drink in my hand.”
We laughed and then a steady stream of people came from every hallway and door, all lining up behind Anton. When the security finally came in the doors and lead over a hundred people inside, all lining up behind Anton, I kicked myself for now needing to go to the back of a huge line when I was in fact the first there.
“Whoa, where you going? Anton said, “Your right here..” he said, pointing in front of him, first in the line of over 150 people now. Security let us in, Anton and I got our passports first and took the first elevator down to the lobby together along with another guy who within a single sentence Anton found out lived in the same region of Eastern California as him, they fell into revelry and I waved good bye to Anton, jetting out of the State Department having come an hour late to my reservation and leaving passport in hand before everyone else.
I paid the $32 for my parking and wasted no time getting the fuck out of Frisco, for my destination lay in East, where time and temperaments flow differently…