On The Road Again

San Francisco
July 26, `69

The wait in Sacramento was worth it. It took three hours to get
a ride, but when I did, it was with this cat in a T-Bird. He picked
me up and gave me a ride all the way to the Bay area. He was
friendly, but it didn't take long before I could tell something was
troubling him. I'm no psychologist, nor do I want to be, but the
therapy that worked for this guy also worked for me. The more he
showed me a good time, the more he escaped from whatever was
bothering him. He had beer, and I was more than glad to help him
drink it. There we were, the two of us cruising down the expressway
in a convertible T-Bird (my favorite sports car), on a hot summer's
day drinking cold beer, I was in heaven.

Once we arrived in Oakland, we stopped at our first topless
bar. This cat could see that I was enjoying the ambiance, so after a
beer we visited another topless bar. We should have stayed at the
first bar though; it was a classier place. I had been in strip
joints before, but this was my first time in a topless bar. It was
just like any other bar, except the bartenders served drinks bare
from the waist up. I kept looking at the bartenders beautiful bare
breasts, but only when she couldn't see me doing it. Nobody likes to
be stared at.

After a morning of beer and topless bars, I got out of the
car in Berkley. I thanked the cat for the ride and the great time.
The high from the mescaline was gone, but I was just this side of
being staggering drunk. In every city there is a place where hippies
hang out, but in Berkley the whole city was a hang-out. Every street
was the Strip, every store catered to hippie clientele. The
commercial part of the city was barely different from the campus
section, and the campus section was, basically, the origin of the
counter-culture movement.

Upon arrival, the first thing I did was go straight to the
university. The cat that drove me to the university laid a joint on
me and I was glad because smoking a good joint was a nice way to see
the unmistakable character of the Berkley campus for the first time.
I had never visited Berkley before. The place was unique, but I
don't think I would want to live there. The windows in the campus
buildings were shuttered, more for protection than artistic beauty I
suppose. Some of the windows lacked shutters, but even those windows
were haphazardly boarded up. The buildings were sorely in need of
paint job too. The place could have passed for a war zone, which of
course Berkley was, just a few years back during the student riots.

The highlight of my tour came when I walked through the
campus square. In the plaza you could find people hanging out
everywhere. There were good musicians jamming, and people giving
lectures on any subject that would attract listeners. This was the
kind of place I would have liked to spend more time in, but I hadn't
eaten since Seattle, so I walked down the street until I came to a
little store where I bought some cookies and milk, and then sat down
on the sidewalk. This freaky cat and his chick passed by and they
looked hungry, so I offered them some cookies. They were very
appreciative. Before they said good-bye, they laid their pad on me.
They were leaving town and their apartment's rent had been paid for
the next two weeks. They were looking for somebody to turn their
place over to when they found me. They told me it was okay with the
manager, so all I had to do was move in. They also told me the door
was open and if I wanted it any other way I would have to buy my own
lock.

Not only was I going to the Jazz Workshop, I also had my own
apartment. I didn't celebrate though; celebrations are best left for
after the fact events. All to often, things are not what they seem.
I couldn't help but feel good however. First things first, and that
meant I needed a place to sleep for the night. I had been told about
a free church, so I paid it a visit only to find that it was already
full. The church's game room was still open, so I hung out, hopping
something would turn up. I met and became friendly with two chicks
who told me that if they found a place to crash I could go with
them. The chicks scored an address, and when we arrived at the crash
pad, two guys greeted us. The red carpet was not exactly rolled out
for me, but I went in anyway. After the boys found out I was not
attached to the girls, the friction subsided a little. The vibes
were still far from welcoming though. As the evening wore on, these
dudes, right out of a Dick Tracy comic strip, found out they weren't
going to score with the chicks. This would have been okay except the
more the chicks rejected their advances the more my security was
threatened. This was one time I really wished the other guy would
get the girl.