So I’ve returned to San Fransico for GDC once more.

I haven’t been in this city for more than a day and stuff has already gone crazy.

First, locating my hotel was not fun It took nearly an hour to find even with google maps and my basic knownledge of the local area.

Upon finding my hotel, it took another 10 mins to find the correct floor as all the rooms are numbered in the 1,000 and I was looking for something in the 100.

Once I found my room and my roommate for this week, and took a quick shower, there were still some supplies I need to gather, like shampoo and a razor to shave my legs(Gotta look good ya know).

The shoes I brought with me turned out to be one size to large, so I ventured over to Payless near the trolly station. Now if you have never been to San Fransico, allow me to paint you a picture.

the trolly station is located on Powell street and Market street. It’s always crowded with touriest, performers, and homeless people scattered about the square. One street over starts the Tenderloin. As I understand it, the tenderloin is like the ghetto. A seedy place where the crazy people can be found in droves. It all takes crossing the street to tell the difference, as one side is clean and lively. The other side is noticably not.

It is on the edge of the tenderloin that Payless sits. After I had selected my new kicks I joined the short line to check out, completely head in the clouds thinking about what I am gonna do over the next few days, when the lady behind the counter starts freaking out.


I turned in time to see this unclean, blue jumpsuite wearing black man wonder in waving one hand around and the other clutching a bag. He looked straight at us, started mumbling and grumbling as he plucked a pair of earrings off the jewel rack and wonder right back out like nothing, still grumbling and mumbling(Probably about melting the earrings down to make sliver bullets). The two store employees were looking at each other completely stunned. I wasn’t much help, I can tell you, amazed and amused, but not nutty enough myself to confront someone so clearly not right in the head.

Without much more excitment I purchased my new shoes and made my way back to my hotel. Along the way I encountered a man dressed like a woman. Now there are men that know how to dress well, this man was not one of those. He had a wig, a skirt, panyhoes, and frilly shirt, but not the actual makeup to bring out his womanly charm. It was a good effort, far better than I myself would have been capable of. Being a woman, I don’t even own highheels.

As the day winded down, I meet up with my old writer friends, and traded stories about the craziness that is San Fran. I recall one year, I had witness a drug deal and a knife fight all within a block of the hostle I was staying at. In fact I walked right by the entire scene, keeping my head down and moving as quickly as I could.

I have come to conculsion after my story swap with my friends: San Fran is an incridible place. From one street to the next there are always things happening. Things that’ll boggle your mind and challange your concept of reality. You’ll be consantly going no way could this be happening, they got to be filming.

No my friend.

This is San Fransico.