Police officers are dumb, clerks are rude, cab drivers are reckless, passer-bys are suspicious, burgers are greasy, strangers are either scary or scared and people are fat. Welcome to the USA.
Don’t get me wrong, as much as it stinks, I like it here. I’m back in my home-hemisphere; people drive on the right side and nobody is going to smile at you unless you, somehow, give them money. It’s my first time in America (as they like to call it) since Barack is the big guy, and no matter how black he is, I can’t see any change. (They must have stored all the “hope” in a New Jersey hangar to make sure there’s still some for the 2012 campaign)
America is the fat chick. Everyday she looks in the mirror and tells herself she’s pretty, but deep inside, she knows. If she could be a little more humble instead of parading around in a short skirt or a bikini, it would be fine, but humbleness seems to have too many syllables for America to know what it means.
I love the American’s patriotism. Black or white, rich or poor (these days, mostly poor), fat or obese, they all have the flag on the porch, on the car, on a t-shirt, and in their heart. There’s a fine line between pride and obnoxiousness, but I respect and envy the way Americans are proud of their country. It’s not the best, not anywhere near (in fact it’s the worst of the four countries I’ll have visited this week), but it’s exceptional nonetheless. (The fat chick won’t disappoint)
I’ve been dreaming of visiting California for quite some time now, and here I am. I ate in a diner, a real one, earlier today; I watched the sun set behind the Golden Gate yesterday, and I’m shooting a baseball game tomorrow (cricket made me miss baseball). That’s the American way.
The American Dream, the last thing that hasn’t been outsourced to China, is just a dream. And getting old. I walked down the Jack Kerouac Alley (a place where the author use to hang out) and I wish I could have visited the America of his time - when she was young and slim - back when the Dream was alive and well.
More on the city of San Francisco in the days to come. So far I’ve seen more hills than gays, that might change as I plan on visiting the Haight and Castro tomorrow.