My trip to Sacramento: Capitol crimes, pizza & the #38 bus
Editor's note: This article is a relatively long
one, hopefully designed to eventually become a chapter in my future book
about traveling dangerously in times of COVID.
January 20, 2021:
"Why are you going to Sacramento?" asked my neighbor as she watched me
lug a suitcase over to my wonderful little 1990 Toyota. Damned if I
know why. Maybe to have a nice little chat with Governor Newsom and
finally set him straight?
"Stop being such a brat," I would tell him. "Go to your room. And
take all those freaking face masks with you. We're done here." But
will he listen? Probably not. Hell, I'm 78 years old -- far too frail
to wear a freaking face mask, especially since the nano-particles in
those ugly blue ones are in the same fiber family as asbestos.
Definitely not a good look!
Now I'm all settled into my Sacramento motel room, watching reruns of Golden Girls -- and I'm older than any of them.
So. The drive to Sacramento took about two hours because I stopped in
Vacaville to visit the famous Rock Shop. Around 200 feet square, it's
as big as the ground floor of Macy's -- and filled with geodes and
amethysts and crystals and all kinds of cool stuff. I bought $25 worth
of cool stuff. Totally satisfactory. Rock on!
As I drove by the state capitol building on my way to the motel, the
National Guard had just finished packing up. About 30 Humvees were
about to roll out. Guess Newsom didn't get his big chance at quelling a
riot today after all, poor guy. No big photo-op for him. Only about
50 or 60 dispirited protestors showed up and just wandered around a
nearby park for a few minutes. Dressed in black camo. Guess they
thought it was Halloween, saw that no candy was involved and just melted
away.
Then I walked over to Trader Joe's from my motel room, about a mile
away. Damn. That U.C. Davis Medical Center across the street from my
motel is huge. Every sick guy in three counties must go there.
The rest of my stroll to Trader Joe's featured residential streets
-- seriously reminding me of the American Midwest. Hometown feeling.
Wide front porches. Maple trees. Stuff like that.
"I used to live in San Francisco," said a clerk bagging my groceries,
"but I could no longer afford the rent. Sacramento is much cheaper."
Yeah, I've heard that before too.
Back to the motel. Microwaved some low-grade tamales. Called my
college roommate. Made a plan to meet her for lunch tomorrow. Drank a
glass of Two-Buck-Chuck. Turned on the Hallmark channel.
I hate to say this but I don't think there's going to be any huge
late-breaking news stories to write about here in Sacramento. This
isn't exactly Iraq.
What is it about motel rooms that keep luring me in? Could it be
because their walls are so bare and empty -- while the walls in my
apartment look like a million little things are hung on them? Good
grief. What if I took everything off my walls? 'Your apartment would
look like a motel room," is the short answer. Oh. But in the long run,
that might not be a good thing.
January 21, 2021:
Got a lot of sleep but had a rather weird dream that involved me
spending time with one of the world's greatest cancer experts and he was
in conversation with Chairman Xi, the head leader of China. But. I
have no idea what they talked about. I tried to discretely eavesdrop
but no luck.
Pulled open the drapes this morning. First thing I saw was the medical
center's massive oncology building. No wonder I'm dreaming about
cancer.
7:00 pm:
Today turned out much better than I thought it would. That lunch with
my old college roommate was fun. She's (still) a real sweetheart -- and
interesting too. Good to know that she hasn't turned into a fussy
little old lady like so our age many do. Plus tacos were involved. And
a cross-town ride on the #38 bus. And a lovely walk across the
historic Tower Bridge spanning the rather-wide Sacramento River.
Then things got a bit more interesting. While walking around looking
for a bus stop, I got lost. 25 long blocks later, I finally located the
#38 bus back to my motel. But that's okay. I got to walk around the
Capitol building and talk to the cops there. "Can I take a tour?" I
asked one.
"Sorry but the building is closed."
"The employees are working from home until the pandemic is over?"
"No, it's permanently closed." Oh. So I walked around the building's
exterior and read the labels on all the trees in the park surrounding
the Capitol. Who knew that a sycamore looked like that? Moving on.
My hunt for the illusive #38 bus stop continued. I asked another cop.
"Sorry. I never take the bus." And that was the standard answer from
the next five people I asked.
Then this strange young woman all dressed in black with safety pins
holding her clothes together and bright yellow eyeliner and a belly
button ring and a thong-top showing through and black nail polish and
steel spikes everywhere was kind enough to google the bus schedule,
bless her punk heart.
I still couldn't find the bus stop but ten blocks later I did find a
Goodwill store. And a belly-dance studio selling used books. Walked
past even more old-fashioned Victorian homes. Past an upscale wine bar
in Mid-Town. Past an upscale pizzeria. Pizzasaurus Rex. "Got any
pizza by the slice?" No. Their pizzas were huge.
Huge.
But the nice lady behind the counter did tell me where the bus stop
was. I could have just taken it from there, sure, but now I gots pizza
on my mind. "Nobody is on the bus but you and me," I told the bus
driver. "Let's hijack this bus and go off to get pizza!" She laughed.
But I still ended up getting a slice at the Sacramento Natural Food
Co-op. "Stop the bus! I bet they sell pizza!"
That was a fun day in Sacramento.
What to do tomorrow? I could go over to the U.C. Davis Medical Center
across the street and have a sore tooth pulled at their dental school? I
already visited Sutter's Fort back when I was a Girl Scout.
Perhaps visiting Old Town?
I like Sacramento. It's unpretentious and low-key. Perfect place for a
stay-cation. So far. And I'm still enjoying my motel room. "You
could go visit the zoo," said my college roommate. "I hear it's still
open." All the museums are closed.
And the evening news kept bleating that "the coronavirus has killed
440,000 Americans by now." No it hasn't. Day 314 of the lock-down and
they are still lying to us. And people still believe them. Downtown
Sacramento was a ghost town today. Everyone (except me) was staying
home, huddled in fear next to their TV screens, terrified of a disease
with a 99.9% recovery rate. I had the place all to myself.
But there is also some good news-slash-bad news. Within 24 hours after
Uncle Joe Biden's inauguration, the W.H.O. announces that they are
finally getting their PCR tests under control and cycling them down to a
more believable amount of cycles -- so hopefully no more false
positives now.
And suddenly it's now okay for doctors to use effective treatments such
as Ivermectin, Vitamin D and even the dread HCQ. What does this mean?
That suddenly a miracle happens and Biden miraculously gets COVID under
control just by getting sworn in.
And the Trump/Biden/COVID circus goes on. America loses. Globalist oligarchs win. But then who am I to judge.
January 22, 2021:
The Nanny State has failed me! Woke up this morning with a tooth ache,
looked out the window, saw the U.C. Davis Medical Center across the
street, thought "why not" and called up their dental clinic.
"I'm visiting from out of town, have developed a sudden toothache and
would like to see a student dentist today," I said to the person who
answered my call.
"I'm sorry," said the receptionist, "but we only have one provider on
duty and are booked solid until March." March! Only one provider!
What kind of a dental school is that! Guess I'll just have to take an
aspirin -- which reminds me of that old joke about the woman on a bus
who drops her aspirin.
"My aspirin! My aspirin!" she cries.
And of course the bus driver replies, "Lady, if your ass burns, stick
it out the window." As a kid, I thought that joke was totally funny and
risque.
So. No trip to the dentist. What else is there to do today?
Sacramento during the lock-down has very few options for tourists. "The
Governor's Mansion is closed and is now a private residence," said a
helpful cop. I googled around. The Crocker Museum is closed. The
Indian Museum is closed. The Gold Rush Museum is closed. The Railroad
Museum is closed. All the senators and assembly members are working
from home. Sutter's Fort is closed.
The cemetery is open!
I don't want to go to the zoo.
Dream report: Dream #1 was post-apocalyptic. I was wandering through a
deserted supermarket, trying to convince some young woman to take care
of an abandoned baby but the young woman kept levitating. Dream #2
involved an anguished young pianist with dark eyes and unruly curls.
Chopin? Beethoven? In any case, he was slowly starting to go mad --
and not in a good way.
I had plans for today. Honest. But then it started raining. Back to
watching TV in my nightgown. Later on? Still raining.
Puddle-jumping? Sure. But thanks to the #38 bus, I had a very small
adventure today anyway. Small. But it was still an adventure. Sort
of.
First I found beaucoup
books-on-tape at another Goodwill store. This one appeared to be the
Sacramento mothership of Goodwills. My 30-year-old Toyota's sound
system only plays cassette tapes, right? No mp3 players for me. And
yet books-on-tape are as rare as hens' teeth these days. "Score!" They
had three love stories, two adventure tales and even one Louis L'Amour.
Next? Comfort food. Hot mac-and-cheese. Sitting at the bus stop in
the rain, gobbling it up with my fingers. Couldn't wait until I got
back to the motel. Simple pleasures. Two kinds of cheese.
But, wait, what? The next #38 bus didn't even stop for me. It just
drove right on by. "Stop! Stop!" I cried but nobody heard me except
for the rain and the dark and a couple of homeless old men. I ran
after the bus -- half-eaten mac-cheese, groceries, Goodwill bags and
all. No use. Sigh.
But then the #62 bus driver, bless her heart, picked me up, called the
#38 driver on her dispatch phone, the #38 circled the block again and
then actually returned to pick me back up. Sacramento, I love you.
Please never lose your small-town allure.
Meanwhile, back at the motel. Watching the news. Disgusting. Isn't
it enough that Biden won (or even stole) the presidential election by
shoving COVID nightmares down our throats? Now he's got to extract
revenge on anyone who didn't vote for him? Now he's comparing anyone
who doesn't fall in lock-step with the Davos Boyz' party line to cult
members and fans of bin Laden? Everywhere on TV you hear about
"domestic terrorists". I'm totally not a fan of The Orange Man -- but the Biden-slash-Fasci-slash-Pelosi gang are really sore winners.
Now they are calling for real
Americans to hunt populists and conservatives down. Be careful what
you wish for, Uncle Joe. Even more divisions between Americans. He and
Trump deserve each other -- and only the Davos Boyz win. GlobalCap
does not want America strong. Job well done, World Economic
Forum. As one famous neo-con once said, "It's a lot easier to kill a
million people than to control a million people."
Right about now, all I can say is, "I'm so glad that I'm old." I won't
have to live through the Fourth Industrial Revolution and watch my
grandchildren turn into cyborg robo-bots.
Time to bury my brain and go watch the Hallmark channel again. But wait, what! The Matrix
is playing on AMC! "Don't take the blue pill, Keanu!" Oops, too
late. Now here come the Bad Guys. Perhaps the blue pill might not have
been such a bad idea after all. Americans might actually be onto
something here by keeping their heads in the sand. "We now live in a
world of A.I." sez Lawrence Fishburne. "Artificial Intelligence." They
suck out our energy and bombard our minds with 5G? Sure, why not.
"You're The One, Keanu!" Go for it. Fight the power.
Good grief, I love motel-room life!
January 23, 2021:
I'm thinking of staying another day here. Why not. What else have I
got going on? Plus the state legislature will be in session on Monday
and the bed here is totally comfortable. And there are free movies to
watch! And it's going to rain tomorrow. Who wants to drive 90 miles in
the rain.
Plus today was nice. I'm beginning to like Sacramento's hometown
feel. And the bus drivers are so nice. It's like having my own private
Uber. "Door to door."
Only two bus transfers to get to the zoo -- and the first bus trip
landed me right in the middle of an election-fraud car-protest rally in
front of the state capitol building. Not only Trump supporters were
demonstrating but also a few "Justice for All" signs were being waved as
well.
Election fraud is election fraud no matter who commits it. Election
fraud probably put Trump in the White House in the first place -- so how
ironic would it be if election fraud got him booted out as well.
Karmic justice. He shouldn't have crossed the World Economic Forum.
Trump kissed more Swamp arse than Hillary Clinton -- but apparently
kissed far less Swamp arse than Uncle Joe Biden. Bernie didn't even
stand a chance. He only puckered up slightly.
Next stop? The zoo. Basically they had two lions, two kangaroos and
an alligator that looked like it was dead. And a magical snow leopard.
Took a selfie with the snow leopard. Worth the whole bus trip out
there.
Then on the bus ride back, I remembered Pizzasaurus Rex. "Stop the
bus!" But the Rex-sized pizzas were just too huge for me to even
consider getting one. But one kind customer saw me looking so
hang-dog-disappointed about not getting some that he gave me his
second-to-last slice. Yummers! I gotta starve myself for a week and
then go back.
Those pizzas are huge. "That's because they're from the Crustaceous Period," said the waitress.
Back at the motel. "Can I please get a break in your rates if I can
stay another night?" I asked the desk clerk. He gave me 20% off. Who
knew that I would be pining away to spend another night in freaking
Sacramento.
But I still need to visit the historic cemetery, binge-watch cable TV
and go lobby some legislators on Zoom. Picket the Governor's Mansion.
Be open to other stuff.
Dream report? About punk teenagers hanging out at a gas station in
wheelchairs. And about a woman who had witnessed a murder when she was a
child. And then about meeting an insane man on a bus who kept staring
at me with wild crazy eyes and muttering about how sick and tired he was
of living with his mother. Why did my subconscious come up with all
that?
January 24, 2021:
Did I mention that I had left my green watch cap by accident on the
miniature train at the zoo yesterday? And the conductor guy had
searched all over the zoo for me in order to give it back? That's the
kind of small-town niceness that gives Sacramento its charm.
At 10:00 am this morning, I needed to watch an Amazon movie on my
laptop. Why? That's part of my job description. As a member of
SAG-AFTRA, the actors' union, we are required to watch a whole bunch of
movies and vote on who is the best actor, right? I did this last year
too but this year is different and weird because no theaters have been
open for the past 318 days and all the nominations that we're spozed to
watch have been put forward by Netflix, HBO, Amazon and them. But I
don't have cable at home so I haven't been able to watch any of them at
the time they were released.
I hate the New Normal.
And even at the zoo yesterday, all the little kids seemed so depressed
because everyone's smiles were concealed behind their masks. So I gave
all the little kiddies a nod and a finger-wave. It was the least I
could do. So sad.
But now the motel's wi-fi is broken. So much for watching more of that
Amazon thing. So back to being a tourist. The #38 bus dropped me off
right next to the historic Cathedral of the Sacred Heart -- just in time
for the liturgy. Held outside in the cold, sure, and totally in
Spanish too but I'm loving it.
At first I tried to pray for the priest and congregation but was
totally not feeling it. They apparently did not need my prayers. But
you know who did? Just two blocks away, shining in the last of the
morning sun, was the state Capitol building. "Pray for me,"
whispered the Capitol. "These freaking legislators need all the prayers
they can get -- not to mention our power-mad Governor. He obviously
needs all the prayers he can get too."
After the liturgy ended, I got lost. Again. That's what I do. "Where
is the Governor's Mansion?" I asked a little old Jewish lady wearing a
Star of David beanie as well as two homeless guys and a customer at
Mike's Bikes who googled it for me. There it is! Beautiful. Amazing.
But I can see why Governor Newsom refused to live there.
Drafty-looking. Probably didn't have an elevator either.
After that, there was more waiting around for the #38 bus which only
comes once an hour on Sundays. Here we go. More sitting around in the
cold. "I'm hungry." Again. And back at the motel, the wi-fi was still
broken. I pirated the U.C. Davis Med Center's wi-fi for a while but
then got caught out and was banned. No wi-fi? Too bad for me. Guess
it's time to practice the joy of spending time with my own self.
Again. Eat, sleep and get lost. Story of my life. Is there life after
one's wi-fi goes down and there's nothing good on the Hallmark channel
and only junk food is available? I'm having a motel-room existential
moment.
And did I also mention that the streets of downtown Sacramento were
mostly deserted this Sunday? Except for a handful of characters who
looked like they had no place else to go, the place was a ghost town.
Windows were all boarded up. But guess what else? The downtown area
looked exactly this empty during the weekdays too. I hate this
lock-down.
January 25, 2021:
It's my last day in Sacramento. Pizzasaurus Rex is closed on Mondays
so no need to hang around this town any longer. I have my priorities
straight. But this trip has been a great success anyway -- even if I
only had one slice of the world's best pizza.
Dream report: I was attending a party at a fish market when i saw a
small boy out playing in traffic. I rescued him from certain death. Is
that imagery supposed to mean something? Who knows. I've long ago
stopped trying to interpret my dreams. They have a life of their own. I
am no Sigmund Freud -- and I am no lucid dreamer either. If I was, I
would have sneaked into Governor Newsom's dreams, become his worst
nightmare and given him a severe wake-up call. Then California would
still be the world's fifth-greatest economy and not just some burned-out
shell of its former self, terrified beyond reason that 0.01% of us
would die. [Later on, approximately 0.06% of us will die from
Pfizer-Moderna experimental injections including deaths 1524 between
December and March alone -- but that is a story for the future.]
I have explained all the dangers of this experimental injection to
her. That's all I can do. Sadly, at some point you just have to let
people go their own way. If 2020 has taught me anything, it has taught
me that.
How sad.
Maybe I should stop by that historic old Sacramento cemetery and get
used to hanging out with the dead. Lovely place, acres of statuary
monuments and grief expressed in stone by people from a hundred years
ago. Sat on a memorial bench under a spreading oak tree and ate lunch.
Got in the car and started driving home.
But wait! I just drove past the site of where that old Nut Tree plaza
in Vacaville used to be, where I used to go as a kid. Now it's a
newly-developed mall -- but with a sign for Fenton's legendary ice cream
sticking up high above the freeway! Tires screeched and brakes
squealed once again. I bought a hot caramel sundae. Good grief, that
was yummers. However. Once you open that door to empty nutritionless
carbs, it stays open. So I stopped by Fat Apple's in Berkeley too and
bought a slice of its famous olallieberry pie as well. "With lots of
whipped cream, please."
___________________________
Stop Wall Street and War Street (and Big Pharma) from destroying our world. And while you're at it, please buy my books. https://www.amazon.com/Jane-Stillwater/e/B00IW6O1RM