I remember the hotel room with an almost disturbing level of clarity.  That may have something to do with the fact that, for five days of this conference, I was fasting---for reasons part health, part economic.  ;) I thought this next bit was . . . interesting.  Virtually all hotel rooms will have a Bible. . . .



       . . . But only the REVOLTINGLY "polically correct" California would also have "The Teachings of Buddha." :P :P

      I was in good stead---I had both my Scoffield, and "I & Dog." -DOG!! :)



      The following picture didn't come out well enough to show the point I was trying to make.  This is the safe in my room.  They're like, a really good idea, 'n stuff---they like, store your valuables with a code that you choose, and are heavy enough that they would be practically IMPOSSIBLE to attempt to steal without detection.  (And, of course, they minimize costs---both in differential per room over one big safe, needed to be maintained by (doubtlessly underpaid) staff--and in minimizing potential liability.  :) I wouldn't have expected anything less from the The Castle's present management.  ;) )

       AN-Y-WAY, the point I was point I was trying to make was that, the directions on the safe warned against putting one's pet in there.  What---were they worried about my MOUSE? :) It never ceases to amaze me--what technical writers are paid for---and just how insane liability claims have become. . . .



      One last story about the room: While there, I spent no small amount of time sewing up a pair of my pants--that I had bought at Value Village (a secondhand store in Fairbanks, Alaska).  Sewing up a pair of secondhand pants with thread provided by (arguably) the best hotel in San Francisco. . . .  That is how my entire life has been: feast or famine. . . .

      This following one was left to a friend of mine also attending the conference (by a member of the cleaning staff), at another hotel.  I thought it was funny enough to ask him to let me scan it in and post it.  I guess this is what happens when one leaves good enough tips, or something.  :)



      Look closely. . . .  :)

      A funny thing happened to me on the way to the airport. . . .  :) A whole bunch of us piled into a shuttle, arranged by the hotel.  (Of course we had to pay [for it]---after all, we were leaving. . . .) The thing was a piece of crap---it had problems with the front end, and what sounded like a bad rear wheel bearing; this didn't stop our ?Mexican? driver from traveling at 15-25 miles per hour above the ambient traffic flow the whole way, though.

      AN-Y-WAY ( :) ), on the way there, we couldn't help but overhear the "cab radio." The dispatcher kept asking for the same dude, over and over.  Finally, the dude answered.  The dispatcher said, "Do you want to put your finger on the button, and talk to me like a normal person?" We all laughed.  It was a good moment---a bunch of American strangers--suspiciously avoiding contact with each other as American strangers invariably do--all laughing together.  It was almost like of few seconds of being in theater--and waiting for a "Star Wars" movie to start playing.  (No, I'm not going to explain just what I mean by that.  :) )

      There was probably a good reason why I took this next picture.  (I don't remember what it was.) I find it good enough--that I was leaving San Francisco!!!! (Hopefully forever---and yet, I doubt that that's the case. . . .)



      I didn't go straight back to Fairbanks.  After the conference, I went back to Pennsylvania, to visit the "family folk." (I should probably get a link up about that visit. . . .) These next two pictures were taken of Chicago from the air.  Although they didn't come out very well, it took NO small amount of skill to take them--what with my "cheapo camera." :) I wanted to show people what I keep forgetting---and that it, just how bu . . . er, begger-all ( :) ) huge Chicago is.  It is the third largest city in the United States--believe it or not.  Criss-crossing streets, stretching off into infinity. . . .



      Now this one was from the trip back to Fairbanks.  There were severe winter storms in . . . some place out west.  It caused me to miss every single connection.  And instead of routing me around those storms, which would've required some inteligence--or at least, some trace of actual concern for one of the customers which sustain their worthless buttocks, the flight peeps kept sending me right through the heart of the bu . . . er, "beggar." :)

      AN-Y-WAY, this next picture was taken on the way back to Fairbanks.  The following was not a photographic effect---the clocks in the airport (Seattle, I believe. . . .) really were not running, and showing all eights.  It really personified the "timelessness of my journey." It took me something like 25 hours to get from Harrisburg to Fairbanks.  :p :p :p :p



      I think this next one is a picture of Denali/Mt. McKinley ("The Great One"---the tallest mountain in North America).  I honestly can't remember. . . .



      This next picture showed what I had waiting for me when I got home---the truck entombed in snow and ice.  It took no small amount of time and effort to clear it; however, being a Toyota ( :) ), it started right up.  :)



      I was SOO glad to be home.  :) -And I got to see ROSIE!!!! :) :) :) :)

      I don't know if any of you have ever guessed this, but I'm really attached to Ro-Sie.  :) :) :) :)

      You've doubtless heard that San Francisco is like, the fudge packer capital of the world, 'n stuff.  And you may be wondering just how much that shows, if you're, like, there, 'n stuff.  Well, except for one . . . disturbing ad on top of a taxi, I wouldn't've had any idea.  Apparently, that sort of thing is kept to specific areas.

      What else about San Francisco? San Francisco is positively disgusting---homeless, everywhere--"relieving themselves" in the street.  And there can be cops not a half block away. . . .  Nobody cares.  One of the most astounding things about this universe--that I completely cannot fathom--is that San Francisco actually has a tourist industry.    Usually, when I don't like a city, I call it "an armpit." Well, I have "upgraded" San Francisco to "a festering rectal abscess."  Avoid this place like the plague. . . .