United States of America

Nogales

We then had to find a way to get to San Diego. We were too tight-fisted to get a bus, so we decided to hitchike instead. For some reason it is illegal to hitchhike on the highways in the USA, so after much debating as to where the highway began, we decided just to lynch cars coming out of Burger King. Eventually, we managed to find a ride to a service station near some place called Tuscon.

We had literally just got dropped off when, an alcoholic woman appeared from nowhere and began to spark up a conversation with us. She asked us what we were doing, and I foolishly said that we were going to hitch a ride to San Diego. She then said that she was going to hitch a ride with us - Doh!! She then told us to wait for her and went to get some tobacco. We instantly started pulling over the trucks as they were leaving, and managed to find a ride before she got back. A lucky escape!

San Diego

It was shortly after arriving in San Diego, when I encountered the first of many dumb Americans which were to mark my trip. She was working in a suburban bar, near where we got dropped off. After a short introductory conversation where I explained that I was from England and my friend was from France, she says to me:

"So what language do you speak in England"

I replied:

"We speak English"

She then asked:

"What about your French friend? Do French people speak English"

I replied:

"No, French people speak French, just like English people speak English"

I then thought:

""Dumb bitch!""

Los Angeles - Downtown

With an extreme hangover, a morning bus journey to LA from San Diego on a dodgy Greyhound Bus was not what I needed.

The double G&Ts we were drinking the night before were more like quintuples, and after a few of those, none of us could remember anything. I came around at about 2pm sitting on a street corner with some bum, whom I was trying to persuade to let me have a go on his guitar (I supposedly removed one of my shoes as deposit for playing his guitar which, but the bum was having none ot it). Apparently, just before this a missionary woman had started preaching at us as we exited the club, I then put my arm around her and give her a preach of my own (I just hope that was all I did).

Anyway, this was the first and last Greyhound journey I made. The bus was full of nutters, some baggage bloke threatened legal action against me when I tried to put my backpack in the luggage hold, and my hangover was getting worse. At one point, my guts had had enough, and there was a fat lady in the toilets. Fortunately for the Spanish bloke sitting next to me, she exited the loo in the nick of time and I was able to politely chunder in private.

We got dropped off at the Greyhound bus station in one of the many dodgy parts of LA. My French friend quickly got a bollocking, coz after a few hours without his precious nictoine, his number one priority after exiting the bus was to light up a cigarrette. Some baggage character then said:

"Sir, can you please step away from the bus with that cigarrette, I repeat, step away from the bus, you are standing too close!!"

Why?

Our destination in LA was Hermosa beach, a taxi was rather expensive so we decided to get the public transport. Whilst the bus drivers are quite helpful, public transport in LA sucks more than any public transport in any city I have been to.

Whilst waiting for the bus outside McDonalds near the Greyhound station, literally every person who walked past us was on the blag - whether they were trying to sell us gold coloured plastic chains, simply asking for cash, or coming up somthing more elaborate. One guy came up to us and had an imaginary phone conversation on the call box with his 'girlfriend', this turned into an imaginary argument before he slammed the phone down (I knew it was imaginary coz it didn't ring, he didn't put any money in it, nor did he dial any numbers - he just picked up the receiver and started talking). After he had finished on the phone he gave us a long sob story about how his girlfriend had been hassling him and how he wanted to leave LA, but couldn't afford the bus fair. Finally, after this impressive display he asked me for some money, and I told him to go away.

It took us about 4 hours to get to Hermosa beach by public transport, I probably could have walked there in less.

Los Angeles - Hermosa Beach

LA Women

Las Vegas

This place has to be seen to be believed. So over-the-top it is ridiculous. We arrived in the evening, and after a long haul through the desert and various "drive-through" towns, there it was, glowing on the horizon. Las Vegas - probably the most evil place on earth. Driving through the city at night was very impressive. It was a great way to enter the city after everything I heard about it.

Cheesy Cabaret singer with mullet barnet playing beatles covers.

Californian National Parks

In typical Califorian style, there are rules and regulations everywhere, you're not allowed to collect firewood from the forest (which we did anyway), you've got to stick to the designated tracks, you have to lock your food away at night, blah blah blah. Plus there were loads of tourists around.

There are a few designated tracks and roads which all the tourists follow. You have to get a special permit in order to head off the beaten track (which is the vast majority of the park), which kind of spoilt the vibe a bit coz it would have been great to head off and camp in the middle of the forest away from all the crowds. Still I suppose this helps them to preserve the park's natural beauty.

The Japanese tourists were quite amusing, their coach would pull up and they would flock off, sit on the edge of one of the 'tourist view points' and eat their sushi out of little plastic containers, then take zillions of photos of exactly the same thing, get back in their coach and drive along to the next viewpoint. I reckon that a lot of Japanese photo albums are identical.

San Francisco

when we first arrived in San Francisco, we had a bit of a nightmare trying to find accomodation. Even after phoning around the hostels in advance we were not able to make any bookings. On arrival, every single hostel was full. We had gotten to the scratching our head phase, when one hostel proprieter said:

"Well, there is one place, but I wouldn't really recommend it"

The tone of his voice wasn't too encouraging, but we had little choice. We phoned the place, found beds and checked in. It was in the heart of the Soma district, which is where all the nutters hang out. Just walking one block in this neighbourhood your going to encounter at least 2 very random characters. The place we stayed was 40% travellers and 60% bums (who looked as though they had been rounded up off the street). Thankfully they kept the backpackers and bums in separate rooms. We would have to strategically plan our routes around the hostel to avoid any unpleasant characters, informing each other if the 'coast was clear' etc.

The following day, I hooked up with a couple of my old college mates who live in San Francisco who were able to rescue me from this hostel from hell.

I was there for the Gay Pride festival, which was an interesting experience. About 1 million people showed up for it. It felt a bit strange with all the gay guys walking around - some with butless trousers, some with no trousers, some I wont mention. But everyone was having a good time, and after a quick joint, I got into the mood and strolled around the festival and checking out all the vibes. There were some kicking sound systems playing on the main square.

There are more wierdos in San Francisco than I have encountered anywhere on Earth (Even more than Brixton in South London).

New York

Central Park Painter

I stayed in a hostel called Jazz on the Park, where I paid far too much to stay in a crowded, badly ventilated dorm room. Then I managed to get kicked out of the hostel. Check out time being at 11am, I turned up at 9am to pay for the next few nights accomodation. The girl at reception said they had no rooms available, and that I would have to come back at 6pm. This pissed me off as I hadn't even checked out yet, and upon pointing out that every hostel on the planet except this one reserved your bed for you until check out time, she called me a smart-ass.

I then suggested that the place was run by "cowboys". At this point, the bad-tempered woman at the reception desk completely lost it, and started acting as though I was giving her death threats:

"Can you step away from the counter please, I repeat can you step away from the counter and leave the hostel, or I shall call security". The next thing I knew I was being kicked out on my ass.

This seems to be standard throughout New York. There seemd to be no line between a harmless debate and all guns blazing. It turned out that she did me a favour coz I found a better hostel on the other side of Central Park for the same price.

On our way downtown one evening, we got off at the wrong metro stop. I had a travelcard, but a friend of mine only had a single ticket. We had to get back on the tube, and rather than pay another fair, I suggested we both go through the barriers together (A trick I've pulled in London several times). After going through the barriers, we were on our way down on the escalator, and I was jokingly doing an impression of an undercover security force:

"Ksssshhhck!! Check!! Two suspects just seen illegally entering subway system, they are proceeding though the tunnel of the South entrance of Times Square. Intercept, Over!! Kssschkk!"

When we arrived at the bottom of the escalator, I still hand my hand up to my face in the shape of a headset, and some random bloke with a real headset came up to us, flashed us some ID and said:

"Can you accompany me to the top of the stairs please sirs!"

My friend and I were then subjected to some interrogation, a bollocking, and made to fill out some paperwork. He explained that we had a fine to pay of $100 each, but then proceeded to point out that we didn't have to pay it because we were foreigners. When my friend suggested that he went and actually paid for his ticket, the underground cop said that he didn't have to pay, and could go about his business. Great, a free-fine!

Most of my time in New York was spent checking out various bars and the multitude of shops. I was there for Independance day where some of us spent the day playing football in Central Park with some Mexicans. Central Park is massive, there was about one patch of grass where we could actually play football (the rest of the Park is taken up by un-used baseball pitches), and then some annoying parkie told us that we couldn't play there. I told her to stop bothering us and go and pick up some rubbish. Then she went and called the cops (whom we managed to sweet-talk into letting us carry on playing). The most popular sport in the world and your not even allow to play it in Central Park - Americans!?!?!

That night I went out to check out some Independance Day fireworks and then moved onto a bar which just happened to be full of girls out celebrating who worked in the Riverdance musical. Result!!

A New York Street band entitled "Green Room"