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Started By
Message
TulaneLSU's Top 10 bridges of central California
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:34 pm
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:34 pm
Dear Friends,
Last night, he returned to terrorize and assault me. By he, I mean Godzilla. Some time around the age of seven, I began to have recurrent nightmares. My worst of them all is the Godzilla dream. For thirty years now, nearly weekly, when I close my eyes and drift to the other land, Godzilla is there waiting for me. It does not matter how fast I run or how well I hide, once he catches wind of my scent, he assaults me. His tracking is undefeated. He finds me and then he begins to breathe his fire and smash his spiked tail, destroying the edifices and mountains, those mighty fortresses, in which I seek safety.
Last night’s dream was particularly unnerving because Godzilla, after breathing flame and burning the skin off my back, wanted a sitdown with our mayor. Has Godzilla ever compromised for an armistice? The mayor was not available, but the mayor’s son was at an outdoor table waiting. I recognized him as Will Smith. Godzilla, wanting to speak to our elected King or Queen, turned his back from the Prince and returned to his pursuit of me.
Godzilla, like most ghosts, knows our weaknesses. He knows of my gephyrophobia and he controls me with it. He pins me in places he knows I will have to choose between confronting him, which is a death sentence in that dream world, and crossing a bridge.
Last night, I found myself at the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge with a line of fire approaching. Swarms of people were running away from the fire, nearly knocking me over as I stood there petrified in the dark and mist. Cars and busses and debris from annihilated homes flew through the air. And then I did what I have never done before in one of those dreams. I turned and made a step toward the bridge.
The next moment, I was in a new land, this land. I was awake and I felt my Pendleton sheets and my Scully & Scully striped pajamas soaked with sweat. My heart raced like the people escaping his wrath, beating at nearly 200 rounds a minute. Once my prayer cross and 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer were in hand and prayers rose from my charged heart, calm returned to that stormy place.
Most of you know that it was a tragic incident in 1992 on the Huey P that sparked my fear of bridges. This impediment in my life is more than an annoyance. It is a pathology that has stunted every aspect of my living. Mother has sent me to every possible psychiatrist and therapist who specialize in exposure therapy but to no avail. At one point she even considered employing the services of a self-help guru. After Googling her and showing Mother that this witch was also a Tarot card reader, that idea was smashed.
One of Mother’s close church friends thought she could heal me, so she had me sit down while she showed me a PowerPoint presentation of her favorite bridges. When I demanded she shut down the program, she brought out a Lego London Tower Bridge set, nearly completed, and asked me to finish it. I grasped the bridge and brought it close to my face to examine it. She said, “I just need a little help putting on the last few pieces.” The fear suddenly came over me and I gripped the bridge tightly just to throw it against the wall. Each of its bits, I hoped afterwards, would be lost to the crevices of her home, never again to constitute that terrible form.
Before traveling to California Mother warned me that we would be traveling over many bridges, including, “The really majestic and towering ones.” I knew this would be the case, but I still put off the reality of it, just as an obese man deludes himself into thinking a heart attack is not eminent should he continue eating offal like RaceTrac Texas toast split sausage sandwiches.
“Your fears are not going to ruin this trip for us. I want you right now to promise me you are not going to ruin another pair of pants or have a panic attack when we cross a bridge.”
“Of course, not, Mother. I have been practicing crossing the Danzinger Bridge the last few months. I am getting better.”
“But you still have not conquered the Crescent City Connection or the Huey P. The bridges of San Francisco are of similar height and length as those bridges.”
“Mother, I can only do my best for you.”
But sometimes my best is not good enough for Mother. She responded, “Just to be sure, if you give us any trouble on the bridges, I will cancel this year’s Christmas caroling.”
In the world of threats and consequences, Mother flashed the atomic bomb to my heart and hopes. And I knew she was serious.
I am happy to report that I crossed well over 25 bridges during my time in California. For some, it did require that I take some Benadryl before crossing, but I survived. I am hoping in the coming weeks to test my courage and cross the Crescent City Connection. Realistically, though, I still think such a feat is beyond my reach at this point.
Last night, he returned to terrorize and assault me. By he, I mean Godzilla. Some time around the age of seven, I began to have recurrent nightmares. My worst of them all is the Godzilla dream. For thirty years now, nearly weekly, when I close my eyes and drift to the other land, Godzilla is there waiting for me. It does not matter how fast I run or how well I hide, once he catches wind of my scent, he assaults me. His tracking is undefeated. He finds me and then he begins to breathe his fire and smash his spiked tail, destroying the edifices and mountains, those mighty fortresses, in which I seek safety.
Last night’s dream was particularly unnerving because Godzilla, after breathing flame and burning the skin off my back, wanted a sitdown with our mayor. Has Godzilla ever compromised for an armistice? The mayor was not available, but the mayor’s son was at an outdoor table waiting. I recognized him as Will Smith. Godzilla, wanting to speak to our elected King or Queen, turned his back from the Prince and returned to his pursuit of me.
Godzilla, like most ghosts, knows our weaknesses. He knows of my gephyrophobia and he controls me with it. He pins me in places he knows I will have to choose between confronting him, which is a death sentence in that dream world, and crossing a bridge.
Last night, I found myself at the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge with a line of fire approaching. Swarms of people were running away from the fire, nearly knocking me over as I stood there petrified in the dark and mist. Cars and busses and debris from annihilated homes flew through the air. And then I did what I have never done before in one of those dreams. I turned and made a step toward the bridge.
The next moment, I was in a new land, this land. I was awake and I felt my Pendleton sheets and my Scully & Scully striped pajamas soaked with sweat. My heart raced like the people escaping his wrath, beating at nearly 200 rounds a minute. Once my prayer cross and 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer were in hand and prayers rose from my charged heart, calm returned to that stormy place.
Most of you know that it was a tragic incident in 1992 on the Huey P that sparked my fear of bridges. This impediment in my life is more than an annoyance. It is a pathology that has stunted every aspect of my living. Mother has sent me to every possible psychiatrist and therapist who specialize in exposure therapy but to no avail. At one point she even considered employing the services of a self-help guru. After Googling her and showing Mother that this witch was also a Tarot card reader, that idea was smashed.
One of Mother’s close church friends thought she could heal me, so she had me sit down while she showed me a PowerPoint presentation of her favorite bridges. When I demanded she shut down the program, she brought out a Lego London Tower Bridge set, nearly completed, and asked me to finish it. I grasped the bridge and brought it close to my face to examine it. She said, “I just need a little help putting on the last few pieces.” The fear suddenly came over me and I gripped the bridge tightly just to throw it against the wall. Each of its bits, I hoped afterwards, would be lost to the crevices of her home, never again to constitute that terrible form.
Before traveling to California Mother warned me that we would be traveling over many bridges, including, “The really majestic and towering ones.” I knew this would be the case, but I still put off the reality of it, just as an obese man deludes himself into thinking a heart attack is not eminent should he continue eating offal like RaceTrac Texas toast split sausage sandwiches.
“Your fears are not going to ruin this trip for us. I want you right now to promise me you are not going to ruin another pair of pants or have a panic attack when we cross a bridge.”
“Of course, not, Mother. I have been practicing crossing the Danzinger Bridge the last few months. I am getting better.”
“But you still have not conquered the Crescent City Connection or the Huey P. The bridges of San Francisco are of similar height and length as those bridges.”
“Mother, I can only do my best for you.”
But sometimes my best is not good enough for Mother. She responded, “Just to be sure, if you give us any trouble on the bridges, I will cancel this year’s Christmas caroling.”
In the world of threats and consequences, Mother flashed the atomic bomb to my heart and hopes. And I knew she was serious.
I am happy to report that I crossed well over 25 bridges during my time in California. For some, it did require that I take some Benadryl before crossing, but I survived. I am hoping in the coming weeks to test my courage and cross the Crescent City Connection. Realistically, though, I still think such a feat is beyond my reach at this point.
This post was edited on 10/23/20 at 6:45 pm
18
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:34 pm to TulaneLSU
I do hope you will enjoy TulaneLSU’s Top 10 bridges of central California:
10. El Capitan Bridge, Yosemite
There is a good bit of bridge construction here, requiring the bridge to be one way at this time. I took this picture shortly before I found a path to El Capitan. Minutes later, I found myself dangling off the side of that magnificent monolith. The adventure leading up to that precarious perch on the mount’s side I shall save for another Top 10. The enormous logs and boulders used to make this bridge bring to my mind the architecture of the lobbies of both The Ahwahnee and the Grove Park Inn, two of our nation’s greatest resorts.
9. Rocky Creek Bridge, Pacific Coast Highway (PCH)
The PCH near Big Sur is home to several architecturally stunning bridges, the second most impressive being this, the Rocky Creek Bridge. After riding here and pulling to the side to view it, I prayed that Mother would turn back for Monterey. When I heard her voice, “Alright, the next one is just a mile south,” I nearly cried. Then I remembered her Christmas caroling threat, bit my tongue, and got back in the car.
8. Cobblestone bridge over Strawberry Creek, University of California, Berkeley
This bridge was rather uninteresting when we crossed it while touring the less than impressive UC-Berkeley. The bridge seems cobbled together long ago, perhaps at the university’s founding in the 1860s. In fact, when leaders decided where to put this university, it was the lush meadows on each side of Strawberry Creek that won them over. University historians believe the current location is due almost entirely to the Strawberry Creek.
The bridge is tiny, but the most memorable aspect of the bridge was this lady below us. She was busy like a bee harvesting whatever it was she was harvesting in her three blue buckets. Shortly after I took this picture, campus security arrived and appeared to ask her to leave. I suspect she was gathering food for personal use or perhaps for a restaurant in adjacent downtown Berkeley.
7. Berkeley I-80 bridge
After our short jaunt through Berkeley’s famed school, we asked some polite N-95-masked teenagers who looked to be out for an evening of skateboarding, what we needed to do before leaving. Standing from at least ten feet from us, they suggested we try Yogurt Park, which apparently is a local institution. It was a short walk, and the line was physically distanced with only four people ahead of us.
I chose the cookies and cream mixed with Ghirardelli chocolate. The counter girl was surprised when I did not ask for a topping, “You really should get a topping.”
When in Rome, I thought, so I chose the fudge brownie. The young girl was quite generous, especially after I explained that we were there visiting and this was our first trip to Yogurt Park. Mother asked if there was a park at which to watch the setting sun. And the girl seemed somewhat confused but suggested that the bay was not too far west.
Westward we drove and I found on the maps the McLaughlin Eastshore State Seashore. I wondered if this was named for Aunt Becky who lived not too far across the bay. Nearing the park, we thought cars were not allowed, so we parked and began walking. Soon enough we were walking above the 12 lanes of I-80 traffic.
The half-light cast beautiful colors on the horizon as we cautiously passed this group of careless not socially distancing activists. They were in the process of installing an illegal LED billboard that reached tens of thousands of motorists. One thing a car passenger appreciates about the roads in California is that there were no ghastly billboards, as we see in the South, where casinos, alcohol, and scummy lawyers advertise. Billboards are disgusting, and almost always advertise for disgusting things.
When we returned to our car and reached I-80, we saw what their sign read: Vote 4 Earth. I leaned over to honk the horn, not to show support, but to tell them they need to distance from each other better.
6. Oakland Bay Bridge
From San Francisco’s founding, residents knew they needed to connect the city to eastern shore of the bay. The engineering and funding for such a bridge did not come until the 1930s. Its start and finish date (1931 and 1935) almost exactly mirror the Huey P’s (1932 and 1935). It is an impressive bridge, actually two bridges communicating with each other through above and through the ground of Yerba Buena Island. The earthquake in 1989 brought the bridge to world attention when one of its decks partially collapsed. I do not think the actual supportive structure was damaged, as the bridge was only out of commission for one month.
I am so happy that our crossing was at night. Mother sang, “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” as we crossed. The darkness and Mother’s comforting words were all I needed to survive.
10. El Capitan Bridge, Yosemite
There is a good bit of bridge construction here, requiring the bridge to be one way at this time. I took this picture shortly before I found a path to El Capitan. Minutes later, I found myself dangling off the side of that magnificent monolith. The adventure leading up to that precarious perch on the mount’s side I shall save for another Top 10. The enormous logs and boulders used to make this bridge bring to my mind the architecture of the lobbies of both The Ahwahnee and the Grove Park Inn, two of our nation’s greatest resorts.
9. Rocky Creek Bridge, Pacific Coast Highway (PCH)
The PCH near Big Sur is home to several architecturally stunning bridges, the second most impressive being this, the Rocky Creek Bridge. After riding here and pulling to the side to view it, I prayed that Mother would turn back for Monterey. When I heard her voice, “Alright, the next one is just a mile south,” I nearly cried. Then I remembered her Christmas caroling threat, bit my tongue, and got back in the car.
8. Cobblestone bridge over Strawberry Creek, University of California, Berkeley
This bridge was rather uninteresting when we crossed it while touring the less than impressive UC-Berkeley. The bridge seems cobbled together long ago, perhaps at the university’s founding in the 1860s. In fact, when leaders decided where to put this university, it was the lush meadows on each side of Strawberry Creek that won them over. University historians believe the current location is due almost entirely to the Strawberry Creek.
The bridge is tiny, but the most memorable aspect of the bridge was this lady below us. She was busy like a bee harvesting whatever it was she was harvesting in her three blue buckets. Shortly after I took this picture, campus security arrived and appeared to ask her to leave. I suspect she was gathering food for personal use or perhaps for a restaurant in adjacent downtown Berkeley.
7. Berkeley I-80 bridge
After our short jaunt through Berkeley’s famed school, we asked some polite N-95-masked teenagers who looked to be out for an evening of skateboarding, what we needed to do before leaving. Standing from at least ten feet from us, they suggested we try Yogurt Park, which apparently is a local institution. It was a short walk, and the line was physically distanced with only four people ahead of us.
I chose the cookies and cream mixed with Ghirardelli chocolate. The counter girl was surprised when I did not ask for a topping, “You really should get a topping.”
When in Rome, I thought, so I chose the fudge brownie. The young girl was quite generous, especially after I explained that we were there visiting and this was our first trip to Yogurt Park. Mother asked if there was a park at which to watch the setting sun. And the girl seemed somewhat confused but suggested that the bay was not too far west.
Westward we drove and I found on the maps the McLaughlin Eastshore State Seashore. I wondered if this was named for Aunt Becky who lived not too far across the bay. Nearing the park, we thought cars were not allowed, so we parked and began walking. Soon enough we were walking above the 12 lanes of I-80 traffic.
The half-light cast beautiful colors on the horizon as we cautiously passed this group of careless not socially distancing activists. They were in the process of installing an illegal LED billboard that reached tens of thousands of motorists. One thing a car passenger appreciates about the roads in California is that there were no ghastly billboards, as we see in the South, where casinos, alcohol, and scummy lawyers advertise. Billboards are disgusting, and almost always advertise for disgusting things.
When we returned to our car and reached I-80, we saw what their sign read: Vote 4 Earth. I leaned over to honk the horn, not to show support, but to tell them they need to distance from each other better.
6. Oakland Bay Bridge
From San Francisco’s founding, residents knew they needed to connect the city to eastern shore of the bay. The engineering and funding for such a bridge did not come until the 1930s. Its start and finish date (1931 and 1935) almost exactly mirror the Huey P’s (1932 and 1935). It is an impressive bridge, actually two bridges communicating with each other through above and through the ground of Yerba Buena Island. The earthquake in 1989 brought the bridge to world attention when one of its decks partially collapsed. I do not think the actual supportive structure was damaged, as the bridge was only out of commission for one month.
I am so happy that our crossing was at night. Mother sang, “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” as we crossed. The darkness and Mother’s comforting words were all I needed to survive.
This post was edited on 10/23/20 at 6:36 pm
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:34 pm to TulaneLSU
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:35 pm to TulaneLSU
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:36 pm to TulaneLSU
Posted on 10/23/20 at 6:52 pm to TulaneLSU
No one gives a flying Terd about bridges in shithole central California
Posted on 10/23/20 at 7:00 pm to TulaneLSU
Did not read. Came here to downvote.
Posted on 10/23/20 at 7:02 pm to TulaneLSU
Does SFP still do interviews with posters? You’re my top choice.
Also, I had to get on anxiety medicine years ago for a bridge phobia. It’s no fun. Thankfully, they don’t bother me (too much) anymore.
Also, I had to get on anxiety medicine years ago for a bridge phobia. It’s no fun. Thankfully, they don’t bother me (too much) anymore.
This post was edited on 10/23/20 at 7:04 pm
Posted on 10/23/20 at 7:14 pm to TulaneLSU
Don’t you have a game to ref tonight?
Posted on 10/23/20 at 7:51 pm to TulaneLSU
I believe this dude (Tulane LSU) got quite a bit of Norman Bates in him.
Posted on 10/23/20 at 8:03 pm to TulaneLSU
Friends,
The deeply spiritual and majestic beauty of Muir Woods cannot be easily caught with a camera....but I tried. Also I have attached a favorite pic I took of the Golden Gate Bridge from across the bay.
The deeply spiritual and majestic beauty of Muir Woods cannot be easily caught with a camera....but I tried. Also I have attached a favorite pic I took of the Golden Gate Bridge from across the bay.
Posted on 10/23/20 at 8:04 pm to TulaneLSU
Came in just to downvote
Posted on 10/23/20 at 9:29 pm to TulaneLSU
Requesting the next thread be "TulaneLSU's Top 10 tourist twosomes that the OT Board would swear were TulaneLSU and his mother"
Posted on 10/24/20 at 5:41 am to TulaneLSU
You're literally the worst.
I'd rather read an Oweo novel.
I'd rather read an Oweo novel.
This post was edited on 10/24/20 at 5:46 am
Posted on 10/24/20 at 10:24 am to TulaneLSU
You have serious issues....
Signed, PJ.
Signed, PJ.
Posted on 10/24/20 at 7:48 pm to TulaneLSU
quote:
TulaneLSU
Finally got my motorcycle legal here in California yesterday. Today I took the 280 up from San Jose, got off at Alpine Valley, rode through Portola Valley, then took the back way from Half Moon Bay past Alice's Restaurant to Saratoga. This is one utterly amazing area.
Keep me in mind if y'all come back. I stay in the San Jose area part of the year
Posted on 10/24/20 at 7:50 pm to TulaneLSU
quote:
heart attack is not eminent should he continue eating offal like RaceTrac Texas toast split sausage sandwiches
frick all you downvoters (sorry I know Mother would not approve of such vulgarity) but this is why the posts are golden.
Posted on 10/26/20 at 12:24 pm to TulaneLSU
quote:Well, we have something in common, although he doesn't particularly seek me out. I'm always taking cover in a building hoping he doesn't crush it.
Godzilla dream
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