In which we go to the USA…and Mexico
We got up one morning, and thought about the options for a moment. The vouchers we had from last time around were soon to expire, and without much difficulty, we arrived at a conclusion - the USA it was to be again. We contacted Trailfinders in London, and after speaking to a very helpful Ros, we had an itinerary, including car hire from Alamo. Here’s a tip; always book your rental car in the UK; once in the US, they’ll hit you with a bewildering array of miscellaneous taxes that can nearly double the cost. The next night was spent trying to find a car rental company that would allow us to complete our journey without a huge one-way drop-off fee, which can range from $0 to $1,000. We settled on Budget, sorted the Travel insurance with Columbus, and patiently waited for the rest of the week to pass.

Sunday morning and we arrived three hours early at Northwest Airlines check-in, only to find that everyone else had got their even earlier, and we were seated apart. However, by a little good fortune, we managed to easily swap once on the plane with other people. One thing never ceases to amaze me is people: “We will now be boarding ONLY rows 40 through 30. Only those people may now board”, announced the woman. So everyone, and I mean everyone excepts us gets up to form a chaotic line. Same thing on the plane, less than a minute after take-off, people are up and about struggling towards the toilet at an angle of 45%, while the stewardess was telling them to “Please return to your seat. The captain has not switched off the seatbelt light.” Of course, it’d be these same people who’d be the first to sue if they fell over as we passed through the cloud turbulence on the climb. But never mind, we had food and alcohol to look forward to. I enjoy the take-off, drink, food and landing aspect of flying, but unless there’s a spectacular view, the other 7.5 hours are rather tedious. Although this time we found ourselves next to a jolly talkative jolly, talkative chap who’s manner and looks were not dissimilar to Cracker, Robbie Coltrane’s Glaswegian detective. Turns out this guy had been flying to the States twice a month every month for about 6 years, and has seen and done just about everything. He had a view on most things, and it was nice talking to him, but as the double-vodka and oranges kicked in, the level of conversation rose in both volume and venom toward Christian fundamentalists, (of the Biblical Creation kind). As we worked our way through ten question guaranteed to annoy and confuse a creationist, the heads in the row in front of us occasionally turned - I think we were sitting behind a row of people from a Bible College. Eventually and without incident, we found ourselves waiting for our connecting flight out of Detroit to our first destination, San Francisco. From Rough Guide to San Francisco “America’s favorite city sits at the edge of the Western world, a location that lends even greater romance to its legend. Pastoral, cosmopolitan and surprisingly small, San Francisco is a ravishing city, conforming to every cliché the tourist board can throw at it and acting as a magnet for nearly three million visitors a year.”
Our airport shuttle-bus driver was a very animated London educated African, who reminded me a little of a cross between Eddie Murphy and the cab-driver from ‘Total Recall’; “Man, I got FIVE kids to feed.” You know who I mean. Except fortunately for us, he turned out not to be a mutant, and his arm didn’t turn into a machine gun. San Francisco, like many cities, has it’s quarters. There’s the requisite Chinatown, but, in addition to many burnt-out hippies there is also a large Gay population. We stayed on the opposite side of the city, but the gentleman who checked us in at the Youth Hostel on Union Square had painted red nails, and sported a handlebar moustache of which Freddie Mercury would have been proud.

Tags: america,travelogue,usa
Categories: america, travelogue
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