When my friends Corissa and Joe invited me to spend Thanksgiving with them in Oakland with their baby and in-laws, I declared, “I shall walk from San Francisco to Oakland!”

I asked Google the best way to get there, under the assumption that surely there was a bridge. Google said, “Welcome to Oakland, bitch! There’s no bridge option.”

Then I asked Jeeves. Jeeves and I swore back and forth at each other for quite some time, until my friend Andrew tweeted to me to say I was not the first to dream of walking from San Francisco to Oakland. Emperor Norton I also declared that he would walk from San Francisco to Oakland on a bridge and in a tunnel that he demanded be built.

If you read his Wikipedia page, you learn that Emperor Norton—who haters at the time claimed was not an emperor but just a crazy person claiming to be the emperor—you’ll find that he was quite fond of proclamations. The reason he was emperor to begin with was because after he lost his fortune in Peruvian Rice (hate it when that happens), he declared himself Emperor of the United States:

At the peremptory request and desire of a large majority of the citizens of these United States, I, Joshua Norton, formerly of Algoa Bay, Cape of Good Hope, and now for the last 9 years and 10 months past of S. F., Cal., declare and proclaim myself Emperor of these U. S.; and in virtue of the authority thereby in me vested. . . 

 

Emperor Norton then went on to print his own currency, which was accepted as legal tender at the places he frequented—which means my dream of Luke Bucks might be as achievable as owning a printer.

So I decided to set out early, and walk as much as I could and then take the ferry across the bay. I asked Google if the ferry would be running on Thanksgiving and Google said, “You sad, misinformed man, the ferry isn’t running on Thanksgiving! For if it were, what would the ferryboat captain have to be thankful for?”

Google had a point. Who would want an unthankful ferryboat captain shuttling them across the bay? That left the subway, which I decided to take just across the bay. This left me with a good 12 mile walk to build up an appetite for Turkey and a thirst for wine.

So I set off. As usual when you are walking across a city, I found some lovely strangers along the way. Only a few times in Oakland did I think I was totally about to get stabbed when small congregations of day drinkers yelled things like, “You gonna get jacked son!”

Rather than being robbed, I was given socks by some kids who assumed I was homeless—which, I guess technically, I am—so good job kids—I always need socks.

One day, when I work my way back up to the American middle class I fell from when I became a writer, I declare that I shall wear a new pair of socks every day! And when I am done, I shall throw them away! For I believe this to be the peremptory request and desire of a large majority of the citizens of these United States! Proclaim it!

Anyways, here’s the adventure of walking from San Francisco to Oakland in photos.

The first guy I met was hard at work trying to rig a way for his puppy to ride with him on his bike. He was having trouble, but we hope his dream of dog on a bike was achieved. If he did achieve it, we assume he got all the ladies that day.

I could not help but find something reaching and romantic about a man who looked like a tattered professor reading a book from the garbage across from Dave Egger’s iconic tutoring center, 826 Valencia.

These guys were quite a pair, both from Spain. I walked and talked with them for a couple blocks. By Christmas the boy will be kicking those training ways and cruising wild and free! (In the designated bike lane, we hope)

Then there were these characters! I had an enjoyable conversation with them. They guy on the left laughed when I showed him the photo, “Oh” he said, “I gotta send that to my mom. She’ll love it.” Well dude with a sweet beard, hat and cane–I hope you used that card I gave you to get to this website to snag your photo and send it to your mom!

I was quite surprised at just what a vagrancy problem San Francisco has. At the capital, it’s like a Hooverville. “Why do you have one shoe off?” I asked the guy below. “Ah,” he said, “I just got these from goodwill. The problem is, I’m a 9.5 wide, and all they ever have is 9.5 shoes, so they always hurt my feet until I can break em in.” Tucked behind his books and backpack were a few cans of malt liquor. I liked his style, his stack of books, and the way he had everything neatly layed out and his relentless cheerfullness.

Then a kid in the red T-shirt came running up to me and handed me a pair of socks. “Thanks!” I said, “I can ALWAYS use socks. I asked the family handing out socks to the homeless if they were doing this with a church or organization. They weren’t. They were just out on Thanksgiving handing out socks to people who were very happy to receive them. This was the highlight of my Thanksgiving. If one day I bring kids in the world (scary thought, eh?), I hope this is  the kind of tradition that we can have on the holidays–be the sock family.

There were also businesses, like the Indian restaurant, Cafe Tandoor, who were out on their own volition, providing a good meal for the homeless on Thanksgiving.

Oh this guy was a character. Jacob. “Can I take your picture?” I asked. “You can,” he said, “But that’ll cost you $2 . . . Why will it cost you $2 you ask? Well, because I’m a coffee addict, and I gotta get my fix.” From one coffee addict to another, Jacob, your coffees on the house.

I agreed, except they were closed. WTF?

Then there was this guy roving the streets. I don’t know what he was up to, but I do know he was doing a good job of it.

And then I arrived in Oakland! Three generations were hard at work deep frying a turkey. If you’ve never tasted deep fried turkey, you haven’t lived. Ovens be damned! They got nothing on a turkey cooked in a vat of boiling oil.
Then Ari, all high off turkey and stuffing, took a golf club and started beating Joe’s guitar.

Then, naked, he humped my sweatshirt to death.

It was a great Thanksgiving…