San Francisco Day 5

Our last day in San Francisco came pretty early. Several of us had to take the BART to the airport to pick up the vans we'd need for the remainder of our stay. Little known fact: "BART" doesn't actually stand for anything. San Francisco wanted to be more "tourist-friendly" and began naming their trains after beloved cartoon characters. Unfortunately, funding was cut off before the completion of the "Elmer Fudd," "Strawberry Shortcake," and "Beavis" lines.
The leaders left behind at YWAM with the students were tasked with teaching life survival skills, which seemed appropriate given our activities this week. The kids were introduced to things like "brooms," "vacuum cleaners," and the ever-strange "sponge." Many were able to understand and utilize the crude instruments, though a few were apparently somewhat frightened by these miracles of custodial science and were unable to operate them. Many thanks to the brave leaders for managing to organize the clean up and packing with so few casualties.
The vans arrived and were quickly packed with kids and bags, and we said goodbye to our new friends at YWAM and thanked them for the lessons and the hospitality.
The caravan started moving and we were on our way to that most famous of all San Francisco landmarks. Of course I am talking about the birthplace of beloved seventies television star, Bill Bixby, better known as "The Incredible Hulk," or perhaps "The Greatest American Hero." I can't really recall.
Oddly enough, the kids weren't interested in that type of fascinating history, and we were forced to take them to see the Golden Gate Bridge. We crossed the bridge and ascended a hill on the other side, which rose past the tall spires of the bridge and majestically into the clouds. We soon found out that the trouble with rising majestically into the clouds is that there is no sun, and as such, temperatures at the top hovered around -27, with wind gusts of at least 89 miles per hour. I'm not sure that Roald Amundsen would have made it here. But the kids persevered for almost 18 seconds before screaming to be let back into the vans. Unfortunately, the vans had blown back down to the bottom of the hill, and we had to hike. At one point, we worried that Chris French had been swept over the fence into the bay, but when he showed up in the vans, we had to assume it was the biker from Reno we were talking to earlier.
Back through the picturesque streets of San Francisco. My group was not interested in playing "Who can spot a David Crosby look-a-like first," so keep that in mind if you ever have to drive a vanload of teens around a major metropolitan area.
We arrived at the world famous Fisherman's Wharf, named for the thousands of souvenirs available, all labeled "Fisherman's Wharf." The kids were allowed to roam freely in small groups. Remarkably, they all returned at the appointed time, though one group arrived in a taxi with the Stanford University "Tree" mascot and several members of the Stanford marching band. We thought it best to not ask questions and we embarked on the final leg of the journey.
We rolled across the Bay Bridge and into Oakland. We had heard stories that Oakland was "rough" or "sketchy," but that was not our experience at all, due in large part to the fact that we stayed on the freeways until we were well into the green hills of the far suburbs.
We dined in Emeryville and had dessert in Almeda, which sounds lovely until you try to drive to those places. I feel certain the freeway planners in the Oakland area were hired when there were no more jobs at the head shops in Haight-Ashbury. The interchanges strongly resemble a Peter Max poster, circa 1967.
We managed to get back to our church home for the evening for a wrap-up worship session and a good night's rest on the floor of their youth center. Which I found infinitely more comfortable than the matresses at YWAM. Home tomorrow!