Day 2 1/2: Pier 39

After our late breakfast/early seafood lunch, a satisfied Sandy and me left some very satisfied pigeons, and walked along the wharf. Mission: Alcatraz tickets.

Alas, it was not to be. That day was a Sunday, and apparently every tourist in the city, lots and lots that week because of the Oracle convention, wanted to sail to Alcatraz Island. We weren’t late in the day, but too late that day, and so purchased our tickets for the following Wednesday.

Tickets paid for and safely in my wallet, we are then accosted by a salesman selling timeshares on our way to the marvelously tacky Pier 39.

Pier 39 is kitschy, and it’s camp. A stunning example of what happens when the marriage between the city’s tourist board and a blatant play on consumerism goes terribly wrong. It’s packed with sightseers, markups, and the gaudiest stuff, like canned oysters with pearls, Viking helmet hats, aromatherapy stones, and cable car bells. You can have your fortune told by Zoltar, vending machine psychic, or arm wrestle with a fake hand. Plunk in the middle of this mess is a carousel.

And then, there are the seals. The loud, lazy, stinky seals that bum on the docks and Oom-pah-pah at picture takers all day long, cementing the fact that you are indeed roaming around one of the flashiest places in America.

Why go, then? Because it’s a heck of a lot of fun. And, fun tacky places usually make for great pictures.

We got the seals bellowing at one another, and so did every other person in that crowd. So we took pictures of the crowd, too. It’s amazing how many pictures you can take of people before they even realize what’s going on. Sandy got me in a candy store, and I got him climbing up a 20-foot door décor guitar at the Hard Rock Café.

It’s priceless, that picture. He’s really leaning into it, heavy metal style, with one foot up where the bridge is, and his right hand strumming a gargantuan string. The look on his face? Rock ‘n Roll.

I love posterity shots. I printed it out and gave it a good home, in between me Zuzu, and James in Aqaba holding up the McArabia, with a French fry dangling from his lips.