Alcatraz

I walked on and on a seemingly endless path. Everyone had told me San Francisco was walking city, but I think I took it to literally. I walked all about the bay, until I came up to the old Fisherman’s Warf. Its not much of a Fisherman’s Warf anymore, it should be renamed Tourist Warf. It was full of the usual shops you would expect to find in any tourist trap, and who can forget the proverbial Ripley’s.

I made my way around to pier 41 and bought a ticket to go and see Alcatraz island.  I had to wait an hour so I made the most of my time by walking back down the main tourist drag. I stopped at a spot where a bunch of people had gathered and were staring across the street. I struggled to see what everyone was looking at, when I saw the gag at hand. A very creative homeless man sat on top of a bucket, wile holding two large pieces of shrubbery in front of him. Then when unsuspecting tourist walked past he would move his brush out of the way and startle them. It led to some very funny antics, but I noticed nobody was tipping this man for his ingenious practical joke. It was a much better effort then the guy laying on the street with a cardboard sign that read, “sick with AIDs need money” For some odd reason my compassion for the guy with AIDs sign was lacking but the guy making everyone laugh deserved it. I walked across the street and tossed him a buck in his tip bucket, he said “thank you” and “God bless.”

It was close to my boarding time and I headed back to the pier. I love the ocean, but there’s just something that makes me uneasy about getting on boats. As we pulled away from the dock, the open bay breeze cut through my clothes like a knife through butter. It was a cold I have never felt before, so powerful yet at the same time the heat from the sun burned down on top of me. As the boat swayed to and fro, I remembered the age old rule of sailing, one hand for the boat and one hand for yourself…..at least I think that’s how it goes?

Once we landed, we all filled off the boat just like a bunch of new inmates onto the “Rock.” where we were greeted by a park service personal who told everyone the rules and then directed everyone down the way to watch a brief movie on the island that of course paints the island prison in a good light, and brushes over all the accusations of atrocities committed by the personnel along with the brief American Indian occupation. Then just to the left of where the movie was playing, Alcatraz had a special guest, a former prisoner at Alcatraz who wrote a book about his experiences.

I thought that it would be a novel idea to go over and have a chat with a real inmate of Alcatraz. I said hello and let me tell you this guy couldn’t have been a bigger asshole at 80 years of age. I’m sure he got a lot of bullshit question, but he kept directing everyone to buy his book. He told people about his time in the “black hole” of Alcatraz and how he was down there for 30 days for carrying a shank. Then everyone standing around was all “oh how terrible, no man who carries a shank should get that much time in the hole, and no man who robbed a bank for $5000.00 in 1940 should get 15 years hard time. Oh the poor man.” I mean am I the only one who thought, “you know what, maybe you deserved to be here, and I’m sorry if it was tough here, but you put your self here by robbing a bank and shooting a man! Am I the only one that thinks your making legit money off your time spent at the worst prison ever is ironic?” What am I supposed to feel bad for this guy? So I turned to him and said “bet you learned a lesson about robbing banks?” He looked at me with vengeance in his eyes, like he was wishing he still had that shank that got him sent to the hole. He stared me down, and I didn’t back away from my comment and he said “get out of here you prick.” Well I do agree my comment was…..a poor choice in words, but I guess it’s still a touchy subject with my non law abiding friend. I got more sympathy for the guy with the AIDs sign on the streets then this bank robbing prick.

I then walked off and I herd some people muttering about what I said as I left, but I don’t think I was in the wrong. I then went off to tour the rest of the prison, which was a lot smaller then I had ever imagined. For some odd reason I had it in my head that it was a giant store house for cons, when in reality it only held a few hundred at most. Taking the tour was an interesting experience, and I’m glad I did, but at the end of the day I couldn’t help but think, “I paid $16 to look at an old prison?”