Lollygagging in front of the hotel on Market Street with Wilson, Bruce and Max..

Yes, I said “lollygagging.” We were literally gagging on lollys.

Sam Austin on Sax in Civic Center Station

Dorian and I didn’t get out for New Year’s Eve this year because she wasn’t feeling well. So after we ushered in 2012 together I grabbed the video cam and took a walk by myself at about 1:00am to capture life on Market Street.

Sorry about the coloring, my cam is kind of old and not great at night shooting in the city.

NOTE — at4:18 an SFPD unit rolling code three almost clocks a guy in a crosswalk. Also, the ending of this video sucks. We can’t all be Martin Scorsese.

Our new router and modem, both of which were designed by Cylons

Dorian and I have us some blazing, broadband Internet now!

We have in the past, of course. Gosh, we’re not newbies. But we haven’t had it for a while due to a string of bad luck.

We came to San Francisco from Palm Springs, where I was laid-off from a perfectly good job and couldn’t find another, despite wearing my best tie to the scant few job interviews I got. We figured we might have better luck here, and we have, in a way. Or maybe you could just call it “different luck.”

Anyway, we lived in a hotel for the first few months here that had a wonky wifi house system with a router that was older than our cat. Technically speaking that’s not a good thing, because we have an old cat. The signal would bounce in and out while zipping up and down and fluctuating at the same time. If someone in #302 decided to download porn we’d get screwed.

We didn’t stay there past the initial few months and subsequently bounced from one weekly rate hotel to another while trying to find a room for rent in a house or something, all to no avail.

A few months ago we landed at this residential hotel on Market Street and we got “residential status,” which is a big friggen deal in San Francisco. It’s one of those things that you who live elsewhere take for granted, like good broadband internet available at work and in your home, decent rental and mortgage rates and passers-by who DON’T potty on your sidewalk.

One of our friendly neighbors sets up a campsite below our window, and rolls his weed while Mr. Conservative passer-by looks on.

But we don’t begrudge you any of that because hey, we’re the ones who chose to live here, and hey, we actually LIKE IT, despite high rents and the despicable toilet habits of some of our homeless neighbors.

But when we rented this room we discovered that we were renting a bed, closet, toilet usage (down the hall, which is better than the sidewalk) and a sink. No fridge, no microwave, no stove and (shudder) no INTERNET.

Luckily, I discovered a public wifi signal wafting through our window that was called “PUBLIC 11.” I have no idea where it came from, but if I moved my netbook within a foot or two of the window I could log-on. At three feet it went away.

Dorian joined me with her Macbook so there we were, both huddled at a tiny desk next to the window, patiently waiting for the very-slow PUBLIC 11 signal to acknowledge us.  But there was no streaming video or even audio. Yes, it was that bad. We’d often get kicked-off and have to wait ten minutes or so for the signal to reacquire. We’d have like five minutes online, ten off, then ten on if we were lucky followed by another ten off.

If we really needed to do something important online or catch up on stuff we’d just pack-up and go to The Coffee Bean a few blocks down, thus all those frequent trips there I’ve talked about.

The Coffee Bean Market Street

But no more. We finally broke down and decided that if we just ordered AT&T DSL, which is the only service provider in this building, we’d be spending as much on our broadband bill as we’d been spending on cappuccinos and lattes. We had to wait a week for our order to be activated, but that happened last night so here we are! BLAZING AWAY! I actually watched stuff on HULU last night!

I can’t believe the technological advancements either. The router AT&T sent us looks like something that would have been clandestinely placed on board the Gallactica by Cylons. The last router we had was the size of a Volkswagen and I’d swear it had rabbit ears. Also, the sites I haven’t visited in a long time due to not having a decent connection – I mean, what’s up with HULU and VEVO and all their fancy java shit now? YouTube is even better, as is Tweetdeck.

Seriously, I haven’t been able to use all of that stuff in ages.

We know you’re all like, “Hey, fast Internet is no big deal, we have it on our little phones and shit” but you need to know that for us, it’s flashy and new.. again.

This is the technical equivalent of not having to potty on the sidewalk.

hobo in the rain, originally uploaded by daverhodester.

One of San Francisco’s best hot-spots for lunch, especially on Valentine’s Day, is this lovely trashcan on Market Street near Larkin.

Frank Chu - image from Wikipedia

While headed to our favorite haunt on Market Street, The Coffee Bean, we happened upon San Francisco’s “Most Pathological Citizen” (SF Weekly, 2007), Frank Chu. We were stopped at the corner of Market and Powell while waiting for the light to change, so a conversation ensued..

Rhodester – Hi Frank!

Chu – Hello.

Rhodester – It’s nice to see you again.

Chu – I am seen by many, I have CBS news cover the twelve galaxies. They do that with twelve crews of reporters who speak to me.

Rhodester – Awesome! Hey, do you know who Merlin Mann is? He posted a picture he had taken with you a while back, and he writes about you every now and then. I’ve never met him but I think he comes by here a lot.

Chu – Do not know him, there are many. Many come and hear of the twelve, the galaxies, they will come. The invaders will come. My message will be told.

Rhodester – Oh, it’s being told, no worries there. You’re quite famous, pal! Hey, this is my wife, Dorian (indicates Dorian, standing beside him).

Chu – Nice to meet you.

Dorian – You too, Frank (smiles).

Light changes.

Rhodester – Hey, we gotta roll, man.. hang in there, you’ll get through to everyone eventually!

Chu – I know this, they heed.. must heed the twelve and more before they come.

Never let it be said that we here at The Rhodester Chronicles are not doing our part to further the cause.

Whatever that may be.

We live in a hotel on Market Street here in San Francisco.

It could be worse. I’ve seen some of the hotels in the Tenderloin district, where welcome mats are made out of poo and even the roaches have tiny little guns.

One time I was riding a bus that stopped in front of one of the Tenderloin’s finest establishments, the “Hotel Cesspool,” and there was an old man in a wheelchair with a lady helping him. They didn’t appear as if they wanted to board the bus so the driver started to close the door, but the lady yelled at him..

“HEY! What you doing? We wants on da bus! OPEN DA DOOR!!!”

The driver opened the door and engaged the automatic ramp. It takes a minute to fold out and lower to the sidewalk, so the lady dashed over to a corner behind the bus stop, whipped out a crack pipe and blazed a bit. She finished just in time to get on the bus with her charge and push his chair into position. She was suddenly in a VERY good mood.

“We on da bus now! Thank you driver! We goin’ up to Fulton! Das, FULTON! Driver, you let us off at FULTON okay? FULLLLLLLTONNNNNN!!!!”

The driver grunted his acknowledgment and off we went.

I’ve been to some nice places around here too, like a condo over on the Embarcadero that’s owned by some hot Asian chick, and I walk by The Four Seasons a few blocks down from us almost every day. The Four Seasons has doormen who are immaculately dressed and polite. They smile and nod, with their hands folded in front of them and sense of duty clearly on display.

Across from The Four Seasons is The Ritz Carlton, with even better looking doormen who are nicer and better dressed. Not far from that is the Millenium Tower, where it costs about a thousand dollars every time you flush your toilet when you have a suite up in that building. It’s so tall and the view is so great that penthouse residents can just barely see their modesty if they have extremely powerful telescopes.

The doormen at The Millenium Tower aren’t even human. They’re real, bonafide angels who did so well they got a promotion.

Dorian and I are at an in-between place right now, The Hotel Ramshackle. That’s not its real name.

It was built ages ago, and has shared bathrooms and showers. Yes, we don’t have an actual bathroom right in our apartment. We’re working toward that goal someday, but for now we shuffle down the hall and back.

The management team of Frank and Shirley (not their real names) is pretty top-notch. They do a good job of keeping miscreants and scofflaws out of the building. The bathrooms and showers are locked in case the miscreants and scofflaws actually get in and want to relieve themselves, then practice hygiene. So we have to take a key when going to the bathroom.

One time a miscreant got in who proved to be a scofflaw too, and BOY! That was fun. Frank threw him out while Shirley yelled, which is what each of them are best at.

Our neighborhood is the Civic Center, which is a cross between the Tenderloin and The Financial District, with a little more leaning to the Tenderloin. We have our share of “colorful characters, ” of which I’m one. But a lot of them are more colorful than me, if by “colorful” we’re implying that they’re out of their minds on drugs, alcohol or both.

A guy the other night started yelling about something or other, then kicked all the trash cans over so that trash spewed out onto Market Street, creating a big mess. A cop saw it and made him clean it up. It was hilarious. The cop got some back-up because I guess the guy was a dangerous scofflaw, so the scenario I watched from my second floor perch was six big SFPD officers all standing around looking burly with their thumbs hitched into their belts while a drunk guy picked up trash.

I really need to get a decent camera.

During the day we get the vintage MUNI F-cars going by every ten minutes, all-day-long. They rattle and clink down the track, taking about ten times as long to reach the Castro district as the MUNI trains that whoosh underneath of them, which in turn are put to shame by the BART trains that REALLY whoosh underneath THEM.

That’s right. In this picture, we have a vintage streetcar on the surface and under it, a train track that you can’t see and under THAT, a rail for an even faster train that you really can’t see..

This was taken with my lousy netbook webcam, which is why it looks like crap. But it’s the view from my desk, so you get the idea.

Here is the tree outside our window, and the building across the street. Hopefully the tree will bloom soon, and shower pretty little blossoms on the passers-by below..

We have a lot of sirens attached to emergency vehicles which go by all day long and several times during the night, since this is a main corridor to and from the hospital. We have a lot of street people, fights, yelling and the occasional crashing sound of something being destroyed. Once in a while we’ll hear tires skid followed by that dreaded crunch of metal, and the yelling that follows.

It’s one big cacophony of swirling energy, that only slows at night but never ceases.

Frank and Shirley try their best, but there are fights in our building too. Not often though. Someone likes to throw trash out a window above us onto the street below. There are bugs, and we’ve decided to domesticate them since we can’t seem to eradicate them. We give them names just before we squash them. “Hey Lance!” ~SQUOOSH~

We live over a newly opened dollar store called “Dollar King,” which has a banner strung under our window. My desk is right over the word “KING,” so if you stand across the street and look over, you see me sitting here typing in the window with a huge banner under me that has the word KING on it. It’s quite flattering.

Again, I need a damn camera.

We’ve lived in nicer places. Quieter places. More expensive places without so much excitement. But for now, and just for now, we’d not be anywhere else.

]]> http://rhodester.net/the-home-tel/feed 0 http://rhodester.net/a-word-to-the-wise http://rhodester.net/a-word-to-the-wise#comments Tue, 02 Nov 2010 17:36:54 +0000 David Rhodes http://rhodester.net/?p=9696

1. We recommend.. that should a person find him or herself in San Francisco on any given day of the World Series where the San Francisco Giants are playing, and that if there’s a big Jumbotron TV set-up in Civic Center plaza that will be broadcasting the game because it could be a “deciding game” for the Giants, meaning that if they win it then they win the whole damn series, we recommend that the person get to the Civic Center plaza early, like a couple of hours or more before the event, lest the person find themselves standing in front of a tree and viewing the Jumbotron through a couple of other trees while people get in line in front of him or her because a vendor set up a hotdog cart right next to the tree after the person arrived and staked out the tree spot because there was simply nowhere else to stand, let alone sit, by the time the national anthem was being sung by Charlie Pride, so people who got in line to buy hotdogs kept asking “are you in line?” to the person because he/she appeared to be in line when really he/she was just trying to watch the fucking game and was there ten minutes before the damn hotdog vendor, so he/she finally gave up after the second inning and went to The Coffee Bean downtown, where the game wasn’t on but he/she was too broke to go to a bar and purchase beer to rent a barstool to watch the game while knowing at the same time that Naomi, aka “The Ebony Princess,” would be the shift-lead and would help him/her out on a cup of coffee while he/she followed the game, sort of, on the Internet because he/she doesn’t have a TV in his/her cheap-ass hotel room to watch the damn game in the first place.

2. We recommend.. that should a person be at a The Coffee Bean on Market Street in San Francisco on an evening that the San Francisco Giants are playing a “deciding game” in the World Series and then win the damn game, meaning that they just won the World Series, that the person not even THINK about walking the five blocks from Powell Street to Civic Center via Market Street to get back to his/her hotel for at least three to five (possibly even six) hours after the game ends, because the crowd on Market Street will be such that the person could head South but possibly find him or herself being carried North to The Ferry Building against his or her will by the sheer force of the happy, cheering crowd as they shout repeatedly, “let’s go Giants, LET’S GO!” and all the while the person is thinking, “wouldn’t ‘way to go Giants, WAY TO GO!’ be a better chant if they’ve already won and it’s all said and done now?” because, really, there’s nowhere to go from here because they went all the way, which is what all the damn fuss is about in the first place.

3. We recommend.. that should a person occupy a hotel room that faces Market Street in San Francisco and is in the proximity of Civic Center and it’s getting to be rather late on a night that The San Francisco Giants have won the World Series, and the person has fought a long, weary battle against an insane mob just to get back, that the person just resign him/herself to the fact that sleep is just not going to happen, not for the entire night, and that car horns are his/her friends rather than something to be angry about, and that people are just happy, that’s all, and that if one turns up the volume on the show one is watching on his/her laptop because he/she doesn’t have a TV in his/her cheap-ass hotel room it will help to partially, but not entirely, drown-out the cacophony that is a city celebrating a sporting event at all hours of the freakin’ night.