By David A. F. Sweet
Our family of five landed recently in San Francisco and, appropriately enough, ordered an Uber – a company founded in San Francisco — to take us into the city. Upon arrival at the Stanford Court on Nob Hill, we were reminded why there was no need to rent a car; the $70-plus valet rate was more than slightly prohibitive, and parallel parking on steep hills probably would frustrate our flatland drivers.
A driverless car shuttled the writer and his family to their hotel in the high-tech hub.
Further, we wouldn’t have enjoyed the latest in modern technology: a driverless car. After watching a San Francisco Giants’ game in beautiful Oracle Park featuring views of the San Francisco Bay from the upper deck, we downloaded the Waymo One app and awaited the ride back to the hotel. A few minutes later, a white car arrived – and it was far from ordinary. Equipped with LIDAR sensors on its rooftop to map surroundings along with cameras on its sides, the robotaxi emanated a futuristic vibe. Attempts to open the passenger side door were futile until I rechecked the app and noticed an important button: “Unlock the doors,” it read. After pushing it, we were ready to go.
Watching the steering wheel twist from side to side without any hands in charge was a bit disconcerting, but the 15-minute ride back to the Stanford was perfectly smooth. And in this era when even coffee servers request tips, how nice not to hear an automated voice demand one.
When we had checked in at the historic Stanford, I mistakenly thought our second room was number 857. Once we got there, we were standing in front of the Leland Stanford Suite. Was my credit card that powerful to get an upgrade like this, to the quarters of a man who lent his name to not only a hotel and a prestigious university? Alas, another check of the key holder showed we were in 837, not 857. Still, the disappointment was short-lived, as we enjoyed a super view of the iconic Transamerica Building and watched massive freighters inching their way to the Pacific Ocean amid gently moving sailboats. A cable car ran right by the hotel, and the traditional clanging could be heard up in our room on the top floor.
During our first night, we walked down to the House of Nanking in Chinatown, where I enjoyed the best wonton soup I had ever tasted — spicy and brimming with different ingredients. The return trip involved navigating sloping hills after a couple of Tsingtao beers with no Waymo in site to end my distress. But the hike was alleviated by an elevator ride to the Top of the Mark, where a fantastic view of the city unfolded and top-notch cocktails were served.
Oracle Park offers stunning views of the San Francisco Bay.
Given it was the first time our children (ages 22, 21 and 18) had traveled to San Francisco, Alcatraz was part of the itinerary. After a long climb up the island, which was closed as a federal prison in 1963, one enters the shower room. Perhaps 30 yards of showerheads line two sides with no partitions. During the 45-minute audio tour, where prisoners and guards share their recollections, a prisoner lamented what happened after the inaugural shower: “We went right down Broadway (a line of cellblocks) in our birthday suit, and all the guys were howling.”
All the main cells were alike; no decorations were allowed. Worse conditions existed in D Block for people who broke the rules (the Birdman of Alcatraz was locked up there almost immediately). Prisoners were released only once a week.
“It was cold, it was damp, the wind would whistle through the windows,” another prisoner said.
Likely the worst night of the year for all was New Year’s Eve. The inmates could hear voices and laughter and music from celebrants in San Francisco, just over a mile away.
Alcatraz is where the worst criminals ended their days.
Though the city has been lambasted since the pandemic, full of unpalatable human behavior, we fortunately didn’t encounter any stomach-turning sights despite walking about 12,000 steps per day. Finally, tourists can leave their heart in San Francisco again.
Unsung Gems columnist David A. F. Sweet can be reached at dafsweet@aol.com.
