Theres a Lot of Italians in Sausalito

I was hard pressed to make it to San Francisco before dark. I made quick time stopping only once in Mendocia, to accidentally discover it was used as the back drop for Murder She Wrote, that old TV show staring Angela Landsbary from the 1980’s. I made quick time through wine country not stopping for a single vineyard, but seeing how I don’t drink this really wasn’t a disappointment. Still my speed was no match for the earth’s rotation and the sun passed below the horizon before I even got close to Frisco.

I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going to stay once I got to San Francisco. I had a general idea where to go, mainly to Fisherman’s Warf area, where I had read a youth hostel lied. I believe my father or someone I know once told me the toll to cross the Golden Gate bridge was an absurd amount along the lines of $15 so I decided it best before I jump into a city I’m not familiar with and the fear of having to cross the bridge twice in order to find a place to stay, I should pull off at the last exit before crossing it and consult a map. Now why not pull off any time before and consult the map you ask? Something inside me once again spoke up and told me to just keep going, which once again led me to a truly remarkable finding. As I took the last exit before the bridge to pull off and study my maps, there was a big sign in front of me that said “Youth Hostel” with an arrow pointing up a long snaking road. What a truly amazing coincidence, or was it incidental?

Onward I traveled up the long snaking road into the pitch black night up a seemingly small mountain. I was terrified because the signs directing me where to go had long since disappeared and a thick fog had consumed the road in front of me. I crept my car around one tight bend after another until I came to a point where the Golden Gate Bridge appeared before my eyes, emerging from the fog that had concealed it. It was one amazing site as the bridge seemingly floated on a bed of clouds.

I stopped and stared for a minute taking in the awesome site, and then once again crept forward up and then down the hidden path. I then came to a fork in the road and on another guided whim from above, I went left. It took me down another twisting and winding road to a place I was not sure even existed at this point. There’s not a worse feeling than being lost in the thick of fog, on a road that borders the ocean, in a place where you don’t know where you are. All was not lost my fears were soon put to rest when I came across the Marin Headlands Hostel.

I crept up the long drive to the hostel in the pitch of night; the only interruption to the darkness came from three medium windows in the front of the place, which illuminated the walk from the light within. I parked my car off to the side in a rather eerie and dark corner that brought thoughts of serial killers and muggers jumping out at me to my mind.

I walked in a bit puzzled  to find nobody at the office, instead a sign had been placed on the door saying that the person in charge was on break and would return at 9:10. Well that was very nice that the sign had been placed there, but the time was now 9:25. I then decided to explore the place and began walking about. The first room I entered was the common area where I found a strange woman sitting in the corner quietly reading the newspaper, so I didn’t want to bother or disturb her. I walked around in a big loop which took me through the kitchen where I encountered a young man with half his head shaved wile the rest of his hair was long and hanging down on one side of his face. On the other side of the room, standing near one of the large sinks was a very much older man who was extremely thin and had short curly grey hair. As soon as I entered both welcomed me with a hello, which I immediately reciprocated, and seeing how I had their attention I asked about the attendant who was MIA. There response was what I feared, they had no idea, but the younger guy was very enthusiastic and in the midst of making Coos-Coos and offered up some of his dinner wile I waited. He then told me that the Coos-Coos was rather bland by itself and offered me one of those leafy green Greek things I had tried up in Seattle. The combination of flavors worked out quite well and I quickly consumed it all.

After a bit of talking with the guys in the kitchen the front door opened and in walked a very happy looking fellow with a giant grin on his face and the smell of marijuana thick in the air that surrounded him. He walked over to the office door without so much as giving me a glance, and took down the sign. He then went inside and some grumbling could be herd as he moved things about. As I walked up I think he was busy fidgeting with his radio and I gave him quite the surprise. He greeted me with a “helllloo, what you want a bed or something?” I couldn’t help but smile and almost bust out laughing, but I managed to contain myself and told him yes. He then said “OK man you can go in that room over there, do you want to check it out?” This was the first time anyone ever offered to let me see a room first before renting a bunk for the night. I answered him “Why do I need to see it first?” His mind wrapped around what I said for a minute and then he responded “Naaa it should be fine…..” Just then the phone the rang and he answered it rather quickly and in a rude manner “Hello……ahh……you know what can you call back in like 15 minutes I got line here!” I looked about for the line he was speaking of, but I was the only one in the general vicinity. He hung up the phone and mumbled something “People man, always trying to reserve shit.”