A little over a year ago I visited Alcatraz while my wife and I were in San Francisco, Calif. Three weeks ago, Fox debuted a new J.J. Abrams (“Lost,” “Fringe”) television series, “Alcatraz,” which tells the “real story” of the prison island’s last inmates in 1963. When I visited the island, nothing in the tour mentioned anything about this “real story,” probably because it’s completely fictional.
Apparently other people don’t understand the difference between fact and fiction, though, as Parks Services representatives have told members of the media they’ve caught people sneaking into closed areas on the island looking for the “secret” control room featured in the television show.
I wouldn’t think this difference would be hard to figure out. In the television show, the last inmates were not put in other prisons when Alcatraz was closed, but instead mysteriously vanished. Nearly 50 years later, they started reappearing – at the same age they were in 1963 – with many of them resuming the crimes they had committed many years prior.
Part science-fiction, part procedural crime thriller and part time-travel story, “Alcatraz” is about as real as “Star Wars,” as only in a galaxy far, far away could any of this have actually occurred. Like “Star Wars,” though, it’s fun fiction that’s meant to let our imaginations explore realms of different possibilities. Unlike “Star Wars,” it’s only mediocre, as it leans far too close to repetitive “CSI” territory than it does to out-of-this world “Lost” and “Fringe” territory that Abrams is best at doing.
Because some people don’t understand the difference between fiction and reality, Alcatraz has now posted signs on the island that read: “The TV show Alcatraz is fictional; many areas it depicts are not real. Closed areas protect you, historic structures and nesting birds.”
They should have just posted a sign that said “All stupid people should get back on the boat. We don’t want to be responsible for you.”
In fact, the Alcatraz tour groups should weed these people out before even boating the ferry. As a federal island, security measures limit what people can take to the island, and everybody has to go through several checkpoints before boarding. One more stop should be included in which somebody quizzes each boarder with one question: “Do you expect to see Hurley at Alcatraz?” “Yes” answers mean no entry.
When I told my wife about the stupidity of some people visiting Alcatraz, she quickly pointed out I’m not much different. “Well… it isn’t that much different than someone recreating a pose from ‘The Rock’ for a photo op,” she said. “It’s a blurred line between fiction and reality.”
She was referring to a photo I had her take of me pretending to hold some flares with the skyline of San Francisco in the background from Alcatraz, much like Nick Cage did in the 1996 film.
“These people are looking for something that doesn’t really exist,” I argued. “I was recreating something that exists.”
“And you were pretending to be something that isn’t real,” she said. “The movie exists, but the story was fictional. So in essence, you were imitating fiction, as are they. You know you can’t win this argument.”
“No. They are literally looking for something that doesn’t exist because they think it does exist,” I said.
“Or so they say,” she said.
At that point I realized I shouldn’t separate fact from fiction. The fact is I was never going to win this argument. I never do. Winning would be fiction.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, Feb. 3, 2012.
Showing posts with label San Francisco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label San Francisco. Show all posts
Friday, February 3, 2012
Friday, April 8, 2011
Trip to San Francisco should include stop to Alcatraz
Last week I detailed the first half of my adventure in San Francisco, Calif., Jan. 26-30. This week, to sound like a television announcer marking the end of an epic show like “Lost,” the adventure concludes. Hopefully I won’t leave any questions unanswered.
The morning of our third day was spent at the Marriot Marquis, our hotel, in downtown San Francisco, as Jenny had to give the presentation she was there to give. Without getting too much into specifics, I’ll say I’ve never been more proud of her, as she had the full attention of all 120 people in the room during her presentation.
I was even prouder when at the end during the question-and-answer session a woman spoke up and said it was the best presentation of the conference, to which the room erupted in applause. It was one of those moments I’ve always wished I could have but know I never will since the very thought of public speaking makes me realize I’m definitely one of those people who would rather die than to have to speak in public.
Following Jenny’s presentation, we returned to Fisherman’s Wharf where we had sourdough bread bowls filled with clam chowder and then strolled down a couple of blocks to catch a ferry to Alcatraz. Upon boarding the ferry, the fog blanket covering the city all day started lifting, and by the time the 15-minute journey to the island was over, sun filled the sky.
At Alcatraz, guides give people the rules of the island, and then set them free to explore, something prisoners there were never allowed to do when it operated from 1934 to 1963. While most of the island is in disrepair, the prison area is better kept because it houses the bulk of the island’s attractions. Be warned, though, the audio tour people take does not point out the cell of Alcatraz’ most famous resident, Al Capone, as I expected it to based on material I read prior to our trip. That’s because his exact cell isn’t known, as he spent most of his time there in the ward battling syphilis.
The audio tour does walk people through a 1962 escape attempt that may or may not have been successful, depending on whether or not you believe the two escapees were able to swim across the cold and swirling waters of San Francisco Bay to safety. I believe it, because tour guides told people hundreds of people, including children, swim it annually.
Alcatraz is a must for anyone visiting San Francisco. The history is too rich for it not to be an enjoyable visit.
Walking back to the cable car following our journey to Alcatraz, a homeless man jumped out of some fake bushes he was holding, scaring me more than anything on the island. Because he scared me, he said I needed to pay up. For a moment, I considered doing so, but Jenny and I stuck to our philosophy of not giving any money to panhandlers, as we were warned not to.
Homelessness is a big problem in San Francisco, as it is in many other big cities and even quite a few not so big cities, and it’s difficult seeing so many people literally living on the streets. While some of them, such as the bush scarer, seem to be alright with trying to convince people to give them money, others clearly have mental or substance-abuse problems that truly need more help than a few coins from tourists can provide. I wish I knew the answer to help them.
The next day, our final full day in the city, Jenny and I hopped on a bus to Golden Gate Park where we had lunch in the Japanese Tea Gardens. While the food wasn’t anything special, the squirrels and birds that feed out of peoples’ hands was a spectacle to behold.
Following lunch, we decided to walk to the beach, not realizing it was a four-mile journey through the park and several blocks of streets. Although there was a heavy mist, the trip was worth it once we arrived at the beach where I enjoyed watching surfers take on the waves.
The final part of our day was spent back at the Golden Gate Bridge, Ghirardelli Square and China Town, which was busy preparing for its upcoming new year celebration. The day ended in an alleyway in the downtown area full of eight different restaurants. We chose a neat Italian-Greek restaurant that was the perfect ending to a great trip.
The morning of our third day was spent at the Marriot Marquis, our hotel, in downtown San Francisco, as Jenny had to give the presentation she was there to give. Without getting too much into specifics, I’ll say I’ve never been more proud of her, as she had the full attention of all 120 people in the room during her presentation.
I was even prouder when at the end during the question-and-answer session a woman spoke up and said it was the best presentation of the conference, to which the room erupted in applause. It was one of those moments I’ve always wished I could have but know I never will since the very thought of public speaking makes me realize I’m definitely one of those people who would rather die than to have to speak in public.
Following Jenny’s presentation, we returned to Fisherman’s Wharf where we had sourdough bread bowls filled with clam chowder and then strolled down a couple of blocks to catch a ferry to Alcatraz. Upon boarding the ferry, the fog blanket covering the city all day started lifting, and by the time the 15-minute journey to the island was over, sun filled the sky.
At Alcatraz, guides give people the rules of the island, and then set them free to explore, something prisoners there were never allowed to do when it operated from 1934 to 1963. While most of the island is in disrepair, the prison area is better kept because it houses the bulk of the island’s attractions. Be warned, though, the audio tour people take does not point out the cell of Alcatraz’ most famous resident, Al Capone, as I expected it to based on material I read prior to our trip. That’s because his exact cell isn’t known, as he spent most of his time there in the ward battling syphilis.
The audio tour does walk people through a 1962 escape attempt that may or may not have been successful, depending on whether or not you believe the two escapees were able to swim across the cold and swirling waters of San Francisco Bay to safety. I believe it, because tour guides told people hundreds of people, including children, swim it annually.
Alcatraz is a must for anyone visiting San Francisco. The history is too rich for it not to be an enjoyable visit.
Walking back to the cable car following our journey to Alcatraz, a homeless man jumped out of some fake bushes he was holding, scaring me more than anything on the island. Because he scared me, he said I needed to pay up. For a moment, I considered doing so, but Jenny and I stuck to our philosophy of not giving any money to panhandlers, as we were warned not to.
Homelessness is a big problem in San Francisco, as it is in many other big cities and even quite a few not so big cities, and it’s difficult seeing so many people literally living on the streets. While some of them, such as the bush scarer, seem to be alright with trying to convince people to give them money, others clearly have mental or substance-abuse problems that truly need more help than a few coins from tourists can provide. I wish I knew the answer to help them.
The next day, our final full day in the city, Jenny and I hopped on a bus to Golden Gate Park where we had lunch in the Japanese Tea Gardens. While the food wasn’t anything special, the squirrels and birds that feed out of peoples’ hands was a spectacle to behold.
Following lunch, we decided to walk to the beach, not realizing it was a four-mile journey through the park and several blocks of streets. Although there was a heavy mist, the trip was worth it once we arrived at the beach where I enjoyed watching surfers take on the waves.
San Francisco is easy city to leave your heart
I now know why the song “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” was popular, after leaving my own heart there following a five-day trip to the California city last week.
My wife, Jenny, and I went to the city because she was selected to give a presentation at the 36th Annual Alliance of Continuing Medical Education Conference at the San Francisco Marriot Marquis in the downtown area. While much of the trip was work related for her, it was pure vacation for me, as I didn’t even have the responsibility of being a father during the duration since our son, Braden, stayed in Wisconsin with his grandparents.
We arrived Wednesday, Jan. 26, and weren’t even in the city an hour before experiencing one of the things it is most famous for – the cable cars that transport people on some of the city’s massive hills. We took one from Market Street to Fisherman’s Wharf, marveling at how the transit system worked and how motorists somehow managed to avoid hitting them on the narrow streets.
At Fisherman’s Wharf, we saw a small group of sea lions on Pier 39, laughing at the barking noises they make. Marine biologists haven’t been able to exactly explain why the sea lions showed up at Pier 39 shortly after the 1989 earthquake, and they can’t explain why they occasionally leave only to return a few months later, but even when their numbers are small it’s a fun sight to see, especially knowing they are being seen in a natural setting and not captive in a zoo.
We also browsed through some of the tourist shops at Pier 39, but determined they were no different than the ones in Wisconsin Dells that trap people into spending money.
Jenny spent the next day preparing her presentation, so I hopped on a double-decker bus to see some of the city’s many other sights, including the spectacular-looking City Hall building, Alamo Park where many people gathered in 1906 to watch the city burn to the ground following the Great San Francisco Earthquake and the Haight-Ashbury district where hippies and others congregated in 1967 during the “Summer of Love.” Although I’ve read numerous books on the 1960s and am fascinated by the history, I had no desire to get off the bus to explore the area more, as the bars over every business’ windows and doors told me all I needed to know about the safety of the neighborhood.
I did get off the bus at the Golden Gate Bridge, though. The weather was sunny and near 70 degrees, and the wind wasn’t blowing too hard, so the view was spectacular. Armed with a camera, I set out to get the perfect photo to hopefully enlarge and frame for our house. This meant going under the bridge and walking the bluffs of a coastal trail to Baker Beach more than one mile away. I only passed a few people along the gorgeous walk, thinking to myself everybody in this city must be working to not be on this trail.
At Baker Beach, which is clothing optional (fortunately the few people there opted for clothing), I got some great photos, and I touched the ocean for the first time. Although I’ve been on the East Coast before and traveled by boat on the ocean, I’ve never actually set my foot or put my hand in the water. It was nice, but I was not about to spend much time close to it because of the huge waves crashing down just feet away.
Although my legs were already tired from the coastal trail walk, I made it a priority to walk across the bridge when I got back. As did plenty of others who also walked the bridge that day. I was constantly either passing people or getting passed, and all of us had to watch out for the dozens of bicyclists going past us also. While some people might not like the idea of walking on such a massive bridge, I discovered it seemed like walking on any normal road, since that was the size of the sidewalk. Plus, the bridge did not sway as many might fear it would, and the view was so breathtaking it’s easy to forget about how high up you are.
It took me about an hour to walk across it and back, so I was ready to get on the bus once I returned. From there, the bus traveled to Fisherman’s Wharf, and then back to the downtown area where I returned to the hotel.
At the hotel, I returned a phone call from my best friend in middle school, Byron, a Neshkoro native now living in nearby San Jose. He knew I was in San Francisco and made it a priority to contact me. An hour after returning his call, he met me at the hotel where he took me on a walking tour of the city’s Financial District.
Employed in the city’s digital industry, Byron told me stories about many of the business dealings in some of the skyscrapers.
We also stopped at several taverns which served some of the finest drinks I’ve ever had, before Jenny met us at the House of Nanking, an Asian fusion restaurant. The House of Nanking has an excellent reputation in San Francisco amongst the locals, and after Byron told our waitress we had never been there before, she took our menus away and asked us how hungry we were. Both of us were really hungry, which was great because she brought numerous plates of food containing the best Asian food I’ve ever eaten.
After the meal and returning to the hotel, we said our goodbyes to Byron, who needed to return home to his pregnant wife, who was due at any time.
I’ll cover our final days in San Francisco next week, including our experience with a homeless man who has made a living out of scaring people.
My wife, Jenny, and I went to the city because she was selected to give a presentation at the 36th Annual Alliance of Continuing Medical Education Conference at the San Francisco Marriot Marquis in the downtown area. While much of the trip was work related for her, it was pure vacation for me, as I didn’t even have the responsibility of being a father during the duration since our son, Braden, stayed in Wisconsin with his grandparents.
We arrived Wednesday, Jan. 26, and weren’t even in the city an hour before experiencing one of the things it is most famous for – the cable cars that transport people on some of the city’s massive hills. We took one from Market Street to Fisherman’s Wharf, marveling at how the transit system worked and how motorists somehow managed to avoid hitting them on the narrow streets.
At Fisherman’s Wharf, we saw a small group of sea lions on Pier 39, laughing at the barking noises they make. Marine biologists haven’t been able to exactly explain why the sea lions showed up at Pier 39 shortly after the 1989 earthquake, and they can’t explain why they occasionally leave only to return a few months later, but even when their numbers are small it’s a fun sight to see, especially knowing they are being seen in a natural setting and not captive in a zoo.
We also browsed through some of the tourist shops at Pier 39, but determined they were no different than the ones in Wisconsin Dells that trap people into spending money.
Jenny spent the next day preparing her presentation, so I hopped on a double-decker bus to see some of the city’s many other sights, including the spectacular-looking City Hall building, Alamo Park where many people gathered in 1906 to watch the city burn to the ground following the Great San Francisco Earthquake and the Haight-Ashbury district where hippies and others congregated in 1967 during the “Summer of Love.” Although I’ve read numerous books on the 1960s and am fascinated by the history, I had no desire to get off the bus to explore the area more, as the bars over every business’ windows and doors told me all I needed to know about the safety of the neighborhood.
I did get off the bus at the Golden Gate Bridge, though. The weather was sunny and near 70 degrees, and the wind wasn’t blowing too hard, so the view was spectacular. Armed with a camera, I set out to get the perfect photo to hopefully enlarge and frame for our house. This meant going under the bridge and walking the bluffs of a coastal trail to Baker Beach more than one mile away. I only passed a few people along the gorgeous walk, thinking to myself everybody in this city must be working to not be on this trail.
At Baker Beach, which is clothing optional (fortunately the few people there opted for clothing), I got some great photos, and I touched the ocean for the first time. Although I’ve been on the East Coast before and traveled by boat on the ocean, I’ve never actually set my foot or put my hand in the water. It was nice, but I was not about to spend much time close to it because of the huge waves crashing down just feet away.
Although my legs were already tired from the coastal trail walk, I made it a priority to walk across the bridge when I got back. As did plenty of others who also walked the bridge that day. I was constantly either passing people or getting passed, and all of us had to watch out for the dozens of bicyclists going past us also. While some people might not like the idea of walking on such a massive bridge, I discovered it seemed like walking on any normal road, since that was the size of the sidewalk. Plus, the bridge did not sway as many might fear it would, and the view was so breathtaking it’s easy to forget about how high up you are.
It took me about an hour to walk across it and back, so I was ready to get on the bus once I returned. From there, the bus traveled to Fisherman’s Wharf, and then back to the downtown area where I returned to the hotel.
At the hotel, I returned a phone call from my best friend in middle school, Byron, a Neshkoro native now living in nearby San Jose. He knew I was in San Francisco and made it a priority to contact me. An hour after returning his call, he met me at the hotel where he took me on a walking tour of the city’s Financial District.
Employed in the city’s digital industry, Byron told me stories about many of the business dealings in some of the skyscrapers.
We also stopped at several taverns which served some of the finest drinks I’ve ever had, before Jenny met us at the House of Nanking, an Asian fusion restaurant. The House of Nanking has an excellent reputation in San Francisco amongst the locals, and after Byron told our waitress we had never been there before, she took our menus away and asked us how hungry we were. Both of us were really hungry, which was great because she brought numerous plates of food containing the best Asian food I’ve ever eaten.
After the meal and returning to the hotel, we said our goodbyes to Byron, who needed to return home to his pregnant wife, who was due at any time.
I’ll cover our final days in San Francisco next week, including our experience with a homeless man who has made a living out of scaring people.
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