Sam Clam's Disco

During a recent trip to San Francisco , my keen photojournalistic eye
was captivated by images of the back of taxi drivers’ heads,
my pretty drinks, and many sad attempts at
trying to capture my own image in a mirror.
(I’m not sure, but based on what I did get on film
I suspect that I am either a witch or a vampire).


I'll spare you the macabre flash photo failures, and offer instead
The Story of Transportation To and From Pretty Drinks.


On Friday at 11am, we were off to quite a promising start at the departure gate







11:03

Beth said her photo has not yet been on the blog! Ain’t she puuuurdy?

The flight was so quick, we hardly had time to use up Lynne’s drink coupons!

This scary guy was carjacked

into taking us to the St. Regis

When you need ice for your beer at the St. Regis, you smack all the buttons on the fancy phone and end up calling 9-1-1 and then an angel appears with polished silver and linens.

This guy

Took us to this paradise:

I once had a friend named Kevin try to teach me that it was bad manners to be a clean plater. It is apparently in poor taste to use one’s Kobe beef like a spatula to scrape up every last delectable tidbit from a plate like this. I should have taken another photo 4 seconds after I took this one, I could have tested my reflection theory in the gleaming sparkle of the pristine whiteness of my clean plate.

How you like me now, Kevin Regan?

Then this guy






got yelled at a lot while taking us to this drink:

MMMmmmmmmmmm Irish Coffee

The guy attached to this foot used it to make clanky San Francisco-ey sounds


on one of these


But the most impressive mode of transportation that we used in San Francisco was

these 18 legs


that took us here


and then here

Where I swam my way out of a whole bunch of this





more photos






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