During my bikepacking trip last weekend, I unexpectedly found myself riding through a live firing area in Fort Hunter Liggett, outside of the Los Padres National Forest.  Not as gnarly as one may think, although you have to bushwhack past some skulls and crossbones to get to some of the post beautiful rock formations in the area, so there's that.  Anyway, from what I can tell, the general public is permitted to explore the area when the military is not actively using the range, so be sure to make your way out there if you ever find yourself in this part of Central California.

Not sure why they had to make some of there targets look like mosques.

This setup apparently allows the military to practice firing upon trucks driving quickly through rubble-filled streets in the Middle East (in the distance, you can see how the truck begins to swerve around barriers).

When Broadway kids Andrew Keenan-Bolger and Dani Spieler won some Lonely Planet contest, they were asked to create a travel video documenting their trip to San Francisco.  After watching this gem about 5 times I can attest that these musical theatre kids have a seriously distroted view of what a video with a “campy twist” means, what comedy is all about, and how to act in a production outside of “Perez Hilton Saves the Universe.”  I mean, isn't musical theatre the definition of campy? Hey musical kids, I know this might be a stretch for you, but can you make this vid campy, k?  You guys would have been far more successful doing a Glee meets High School Musical tour of the Tenderloin. And I'm sorry guys, if you're renting your trendy single-speed bikes from Blazing Saddles, you've already lost the game.

Geographer playing at the SF Embassy.  Happens to be the only cellphone pic from the house that wasn't taken with Instagram. (pic by aGreatNotion)

Thanks to SXSW, the past week of crowd-free bars and restaurants in San Francisco sure was nice.  Hell, I think this was the first St. Paddy's day in years that Mission bars were not completely nuts.  And while a bunch of our SF neighbors were in Austin running around from show to party to bar to panel, meeting whomever and forming contacts until they passed out in their friend's chair at the Econo Lodge, a 150 or so Mission and SOMA kids grouped together at the SF Embassy.

The Embassy is an outpost for San Franciscans to enjoy San Francisco while being somewhere that isn't San Francisco.  The Ferocious Few, The Frail, Geographer, and Sugar & Gold all performed at The Embassy.  Local companies such as Trumer Pils and Popchips hooked 'em up with sponsorships.  Of course, most everyone there was a San Franciscan.

Wired Magazine caught up with the organizers of the Embassy, whom call themselves “Ambassadors” and are given roles at the space (such as “Minister of Transportation”), to get additional details:

Organizers passed out buttons last year so those affiliated with the SF Embassy could find each other in the giant festival’s crowds. They also enlisted Twitter’s Mark Trammell, who used to make shore-leave guides while in the Navy, to create a field guide relating San Francisco bars to their Austin counterparts. This year, they’ve created passports, pins and shot glasses, and set up each of the 11 rooms in their cluster to represent one of the San Francisco’s neighborhoods.

It was clear from the beginning that a group of that many Bay Area techies couldn’t get together and not create something more than just a crash pad, said Micah Saul, a Google ontologist and the Embassy’s minister of housing, who recruited his Metaweb colleague James Home to help with organizing after being invited by Benveniste, the chief ambassador. […]

It’s also a lot more fun. Talking with the Embassy’s organizers, it begins to feel like they’re a group of professionals planning a summer camp for adults. They talk of turf wars between “neighborhoods” (apartments), making new BFFs, having San Francisco bands play shows that they’ve organized and basically bringing what they love about San Francisco to Austin.

Maybe I'm missing the point, but I thought SXSW was all about immersing yourself in the Austin experience rather than broadening the SF bubble?  What about hanging out with people from Austin on their turf? The local bands? The local bars? The local corporate sponsors?  I kid.  But maybe these kids should exercise a little more modesty before anointing themselves the ambassadors of San Francisco.  To quote SF Embassy co-founder Gabriel Benveniste in Wired Magazine, “This is totally fucking self-aggrandizing, but I believe San Francisco is one of the most important cities in the world right now.”

SCENE I: “Exclusivity is a Bitch.” by Kevin Montgomery

As one who appreciates the finer aspects of wearing $5 jean shorts purchased from thrift stores and paying $800 a month to live in a walk-in closet smack in the middle of a Latino neighborhood, I've always been fascinated by the Mexican Party Bus. Legend has it that it was started in the early 90s to provide a fun way for Latinos living in the East Bay to check out SF salsa and dance clubs. “A secret the Latinos of the Bay Area keep to themselves,” wrote one of the Bus's first Yelp reviewers. Then a few years ago, white people discovered it. Rental costs soared. Forever gentrified.

So there I was on a rainy Friday night. No plans for the evening. Standing outside of Dirty Thieves after drinking two 16s and a shot from the well, keeping my buddy company as he sucked down cigarettes. Aimless nights such as these never end well. Drink more well whiskey. Drink another pint. Get the brilliant idea to walk to Pop's. Swing into the corner store and buy a tallcan to sip on along the way. Get to Pop's. Do another shot. Do another pint. Wake up in your bed swimming in an ocean of misery and regret. Do it all over again next week.

As the crushing reality of the night's direction set in, the Mexican Party Bus began boarding for its departure from Dirty to some new and possibly exotic location. “Jon, this is a sign from God.” We do our best to blend in with the well-dressed crowd and board the bus.

This plan might have worked. But see, Jon was wearing a long trench coat to keep him dry and therefore looked sketch. I was looking like myself, which is inherently displeasing to the eye. We neared the back of the decked-out school bus—because that's where the cool kids sit—and were immediately called out for our lack of class, familiarity, and aestetic. “You're not supposed to be here.” “Yes we are, Kate invited us on. Kate's really nice.” “We don't know any Kate's.” “Yes you do… Kate Sheppard.” “You need to get off the bus.”

Called out. We turn to the front of the bus. The isles are packed with drunk kids. “Let's go out the emergency exit.” “YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT.” The assertive young chap kicking us off the bus stands up and gets right in our face. Last time a stranger asserted himself like that to me, I punched him straight in the face. Then I punched two of his friends. Then I got thrown through a glass table. I don't get into bar fights anymore. We walk out the front of the bus, knowing that some random Mission kids are not worthy of such adventures.

SCENE II: “The Mexican Party Bus: Cultural Anthropology Report” by Alan Fineberg

I was leaving Dirty Thieves, trailing after some blog bros I had been “chillin' with” and ready to call it an early Friday evening. Imagine my mild confusion when they were nowhere to be found.

Then, out of nowhere, two of said blog bros were kicked off of the Party Bus.

They dared me to board the bus, and because of my background in Anthropology I turned to Erika and said “I'll do it if you do it.” She said she would and so then I did but she didn't.

Now I am on the bus and the bus people say, “Were those your friends? They were d-bags.” They were, and they were. They said the bus was going to Alameda.

I waved goodbye to the “d-bags” and Erika as the bus pulled away. The windows were steamy and I couldn't see where we were going. Hopefully not Alameda.

I met some of the nice, trusting people on the bus, and conducted some participant interviews. They are interested in two things: drinking and dancing.

A third interest for some of the bus people was sitting languidly, hoping to calm their roiling stomachs as the bus lurched this way and that.

Two of the bus people got bored and decided it would be fun to kick me off the Mexican Party Bus, but I had buy-in from the other bus people and after a brief confrontation they admitted they were “power tripping.” Fortunately, I was permitted to remain in the bus and continue to live amongst the bus people.

The bus people were also interested in stopping the bus for frequent “piss breaks,” probably because the Party Bus does not contain a toilet.

After the third stop, I disembarked and found myself in the Tenderloin (which is not in Alameda). I walked out onto the streets of San Francisco, wondering when I would find myself suddenly on a Mexican Party Bus again, what I might learn, and where it might take me.