I spent today in San Francisco. Nice, aside from all the fighter jets which seemed out to get me. Or at least out to make alot of noise.

San Franciscians seemed generally excited and happy about the air show, but I couldn't help but think about how different reactions must be in places that actually get bombed. Apparently the jets were "Blue Angels."

I did some other sightseeing and amongst other things observed some teenage girls wearing brand new blue T-shirts with "America remembers" emblazened on them, along with pictures of the twin towers and some more Blue Angels.

It all made me feel distinctly uncomfortable.

But other than that, San Francisco was great. I saw a Ferrari show and had a nice chat with a guy who was walking his dog. I ate a cranberry and turkey sandwich for dinner, saw sea lions and walked up and down some very steep hills. And I talked to both my mom and Annie on the phone.

After my day exploring San Francisco, I took the Caltrain back to Mountain View.

As I was walking from the train station to my place, around eight thirty, a rather scruffy looking guy in a wheelchair asked me if I would help him across the street.

"Sure," I said. "Let's just wait for the light to go green."

We stood there in silence, waiting for the light to change. I observed what appeared to be a prosthetic leg and the remnants of a 12-pack of beer in his lap. I'd seen him before.

The "walk" sign came on and I helpfully pushed the wheelchair out into the street. Somehow it seemed to go alot faster than you'd expect. It just voomed along, and the guy started squealing: "Woah! Not so faaaaaast!"

I let go and watched him do a rather graceful nosedive on the other side, the precious beer falling to the ground.

"Ow! Ow, it hurts!" he cried. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!"

I walked over and straightened the chair out.

"You know," I said, "I think you're fucking with me."

That seemed to straighten him out too; suddenly he wasn't in pain anymore. And suddenly he sounded like a man, not a man pretending he was a little girl.

"Sorry man. Sorry."

I handed him his beer and walked home.

I can't help but wonder how the rest of the con would have gone though. Maybe I'll offer him a buck to tell me next time I see him.