There are moments in my life where I have really good ideas.

I've sat for days now trying to figure out where to begin on this series of postings, and trust me it's going to be a series of long posts so have a snack and beverage handy, because you have no idea of the total insanity known as my life. Let me give you a disclaimer right now--this is not work of fiction. All the events that you are about to hear are truthful and factual. As much as you are going to sit there and think I'm smoking crack because their is no way in hell what you are reading is true, it is. Only the names have been changed to protect the identity of the stupid motherfuckers that thought they could fly to California and make a movie with their heads stuck up their asses...

Whew...I apologize for that outburst but damn I feel so much better now. Shall we begin?

San Francisco. That's all I have to say. If you've been there then you understand what I'm saying. If you haven't been there then you are truly missing out on probably one of THE most amazing cities in the Unites States, if not the world. There's just something about that city that makes you feel like a kid walking into the living room Christmas morning finding all the presents under the tree that Santa Claus brought you. Just thinking about it is getting me over-clempt...talk amongst yourselves for a minute...

Anyways, there are moments in my life where I have really good ideas. There are also moments that I have really really bad ideas. Okay, most of the time I have bad ideas like the moment last night when I was trying to get the piece of toast stuck in the toaster out by sticking a metal knife into the toaster. I actually stopped and asked myself, "really Adam--your standing here shoving a metal knife in a toaster?" Bad idea I realize that now. But when I get a good idea watch out!

So I got this great idea rather than sit in a cramped car or truck and drive the six hours to San Fran, I would just fly. I booked the 6 a.m. flight out of LAX and was in San Fran at 7 a.m. and had the whole day to explore before anybody else arrived. My plan was to take the train from the airport to the hotel and then go into the city and get into some trouble.

Now there's one thing that you have to learn when it comes to making movies, unless you are working on the next Brad Pitt, no wait Channing Tatum movie, producers are going to give you the bare minimum that they are required to give you. That's just the way it is. Now imagine having a producer that is from India and doesn't know what the bare minimum required is.

Now I'll give them some credit...from first glance the hotel wasn't that bad I mean come on, the car sitting in the parking lot on blocks will one day have tires and be cruising the streets...right?

Anyways, the main reason we were in the bay area was to film in San Francisco...but the producers thought it was more cost effective to put everybody in a hotel outside the city in a town called Hayward. Heard of it? Probably not and there's good reason for that. If you are ever travelling the bay area and you see signs for Hayward either turn around or hit the gas and don't look back. I think the French would say shit hole...

I was the first to arrive to the hotel. Everybody else driving up would meet later in the day. Upon entering my hotel room I realize that okay this place maybe isn't so bad; I mean the brown stains on the carpet I'm sure are just brown stains and not the aftermath of a crime scene, right? Just be positive and enjoy the moment. So I walked into my room, made a few phone calls and then I was off to San Francisco.

Ah San Francisco. That's all I have to say. If you've been there then you understand what I'm saying... Shit I've already said that...Anyways, I take the 40 minute subway into San Fran. I have to say its a pretty surreal experience travelling into the city because you never see the city while you are travelling on the subway. Something about the subway being underground, I don't know, so when you actually get off the subway and walk up to street level, this amazing city slaps you in the face. With my flip flops on and my camera in hand it was time for me to conquer the city on the bay!

Six hours later and about 1,000 pictures taken, I was sitting on a bench on Market street with band aids all over my feet because my feet were covered in blisters. Mental note--when conquering a city wear shoes. As comfortable as flip flops are, there is a point when your arches will give out and several layers of skin will rub off your feet, both making you walk down the street moaning with every step like your eighty years old. But instead of letting my feet have a break, my ADHD told me to keep going...so off I went.

While walking I passed a place that advertised that it sold Absinthe so of course I had to stop in. If you're ever in San Fran you have to go to a place called Swirl wine bar. It's a great little wine shop that has a wine tasting in the back of the store. I proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes talking to the guy that works there about Absinthe. His name was Stanley. He's a really nice guy and knows his stuff when it comes to alcohol. He's also a really good salesman. After having talked me into buying a seventy dollar bottle of Absinthe I realized that it was only a few hours until I was to meet the other crew members in the city, so I asked Stanley where was a good place to stop and kill some time. He suggested a bar down the street and told me to tell the bartender that Stanley sent me. I thanked Stanley and was on my way. Realizing that time was running out I decided to keep walking and try to get a few more pictures prior to meeting up everybody...twenty minutes later I was sitting in the bar Stanley had suggested.

It was a cool little dive bar that wasn't crowded with tons of people; In fact there was like ten people in it. I walked in limping from my blisters, my big camera dangling from my neck, and a seventy dollar bottle of Absinthe in a brown paper bag under my arm. Can you say train wreck? I walked up to the bar and sat down. I'm sure the bartender (named John) thought I was mentally handicapped or had a severe case of hemorrhoids because I think I moaned quite loud when I sat down. John the bartender walked over and glanced at me, my camera, and the crumpled brown paper bag of absinthe and asked what I wanted to drink. I remembered what Stanley had told me so I figured why not give the name drop a shot. I mean what could it hurt? I told him that Stanley sent me. I guess dropping Stanley's name was the magic word because John the bartender said any friend of Stanleys is a friend of his and before I knew it I had four empty shot glasses and four pint glasses sitting in front of me with instructions that I can have any shots or drinks in those eight glasses I wanted for free.

Now my intentions were to stop in a local dive bar and have a beer. Did you hear that...A beer. But dammit, how could you not take advantage of the kindness of a stranger? I mean it would be an insult to not drink those drinks, right?

**SIDE NOTE**Mother don't worry--I gave some of the drinks away because I didn't feel like puking on the floor in front of strangers or embarrassing the family name is any way.

Via texting the crew members I was waiting to meet in the city, I sat at that bar and enjoyed my free beverages. Damn that traffic which caused everybody to arrive in the bay area later and later into the evening. So there I sat with my new friends, who now considered me a local I might add, and waited and waited. I'll be damned if the next thing I knew it was almost nine o'clock and having not spent a dime, was as the Irish say, piss drunk.

Now in San Francisco because the city is so hilly, cell phone reception is horrible and your phone spends most of the time searching for a signal. That in return causes your battery in your phone to drain...extremely quickly. As the text finally comes that everybody is on the subway heading into the city, my phone gives me a nice little reminder that I have less than 20% battery life left. Not a good feeling; Actually it's enough to make anybody sober up when you realize that your phone is about to die and you've got to meet a group of people in the city somewhere. So I send what I realized was one of my last texts of the evening, "phone dead. Meet at Powell station. Drunk."

Limping from my blisters, lugging a camera around my neck that feels like it weights fifty pounds now, carrying my damn bottle of Absinthe under my arm and seeing double, I head to the subway. I grab my subway pass and stick it into the gate machine and nothing happened. I tried several times. Nothing. Now pissed off that my card didn't work I stumble over and get another damn card for the damn subway. I get my ticket and finally get down to the platform. Now what I found out a few minutes later is that there are two subway systems in San Francisco. There's the BART system and the MUNI system. The reason that my card didn't work is that I was on the WRONG subway system. Luckily, once on the train I was fortunate enough to sit next to a crazy black man that smelled of weed and scotch, who was so kind to tell me that I was a stupid motherfucker and got on the wrong train.

Well no shit captain obvious...

So, after almost having to use my seventy dollar bottle of Absinthe as a weapon again the pot-smoking drunk guy, and a series of train transfers, I arrived at the Powell station still managing to get there before the other crew members. Don't ask me how. To kill some time and help me not fall asleep on the floor of the station, I pulled out my Ipod to listen to some tunes. Now yes it could have been the alcohol, or the second hand smoke from the pot smoking drunk guy, or maybe my bottle of Absinthe had a small leak in it and I had absorbed some of it through my armpit where the bottle had resided for like the last four hours, but I had one of those moments that I'll remember for the rest of my life. You ever have those moments when you're listening to a song and you're in just the right situation where the song and life are flowing harmoniously together? No? Well anyways, I did and I would suggest anybody go try this. When in San Francisco go down into the Powell subway station by yourself and stand next to the gates you pass through for the BART system. Play the song by Simon and Garfunkel, "The only living boy in New York" and just watch around you. I promise you I'm not crazy, contrary to popular belief, but it's like when you play Pink Floyd on the third roar of the lion at the beginning of the Wizard of Oz and the music and movie play in perfect sync. It's awesome!!

I might suggest having a few drinks before you go...it might help the experience.

Finally at almost ten o'clock everybody showed up ready to go conquer the big city by the bay. I can only imagine how bad I must have looked standing there covered in band aids holding my damn bottle of Absinthe like a homeless person. Luckily for me though the last train out of the city was at midnight so their conquest was a little shorter than mine.

You know it sucks when you're sitting with friends having just had a day you'll remember for the rest of your life, and you realize that you have to be at work the next morning at 6 a.m...

Yes my friends, the party was over and as we all sat silently on that train heading back to the armpit of the bay area known as Hayward, we all knew what was coming. It was the calm before the storm. We knew that that next morning our lives were going to change when hurricane "Kali Ma" hit the Bay area. Most importantly, we knew no one was safe and there was no way to prepare for what was to come...