What do you do when sitting in Starbucks a naked man asks you how you are? They didn’t cover that in my general studies lessons in school – another example of how the educational system of the seventies and eighties let me down so when it happened to me a few weeks ago I had to improvise, which as it turned out wasn’t the best thing to do.  I suppose that as the café was in San Francisco during the gay pride march it shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise but sadly it was enough of a shock to put me off balance.

I was attending a conference at a hotel which as it turned out coincided with the beginning of the annual San Francisco pride carnival. The noise as the procession gathered momentum directly outside our hotel was so great that the organisers of my conference suggested we stopped for a few hours and stepped outside to watch it; which we did until the heat got too much for me and I retreated to a well known chain of coffee shops where I found a seat and sat down alone with my cappuccino. Within a minute a middle aged man wearing nothing but a pair of black leather boots and a matching belt, which caught the attention of the entire café,  strolled purposefully to order his drink before making a bee line for the empty table next to me.

“How are you doing?” He asked in a slightly menacing west coast USA accent. It is probably safer in such situations to think for a while and say something along the lines of “fine how are you?” but I didn’t. I said the first thing that came into my head which unfortunately as it turned out was “Fine but feeling a little over dressed”. Even though I was immediately a little concerned that my attempt at humour wasn’t greeted by howls of laughter or even a polite guffaw I was completely unprepared for the verbal assault from the said naked man accusing me of homophobia and coming from somewhere like Texas. I was actually born in Fairwater but I didn’t think pointing out the differences would have benefited the conversation so I looked around and searched for someone to come to my rescue. Happily someone did. My knight in shining armour or at least in a comforting jeans and t shirt was sitting next to me and began my defence by inducing a very heated argument about the rights and wrongs of the gay pride march. I won’t go into the full details but despite both men sharing a sexual orientation they had differing views about whether gay pride marches and the like were of any use at all. Why you would be in San Francisco on gay pride march weekend if you were against such things was something I couldn’t quite understand but as they argued aggressively I was no longer the focus of the naked man’s abuse for which I was becoming increasing thankful. In fact the argument became so heated that all three of us were asked to leave so I did and feeling relieved quickly lost contact with the argument that continued outside.

Fortunately there were no similar altercations in the few weeks that I spent in San Francisco and so I was able to concentrate on the standard tourist sights of Alcatraz, the sea lions at Fisherman’s Wharf and the famous trams all of which were a far more beneficial experience.

At Fisherman’s wharf in another branch of that well known coffee shop I struck up a conversation with another tourist who when finding out where I lived started to rave about Cardiff Bay. In her opinion a far nicer place than Fisherman’s wharf due to it being quieter (true), cleaner (possibly) and having equally nice scenery (not sure). I told her that there was no Alacatraz off the coast and though the Severn bridge is longer than the golden gate and just about visible on a very clear day if you have good eyes it doesn’t quite share the impressive vista that you can get from the Wharf or from the golden gate itself. She didn’t seem convinced so a few weeks after arriving home I went to the bay with some visiting relatives and acting more like a tourist than a resident got a boat up the river and following some pressure from the kids returned for a ride on the yellow speed boat through the barrage and out into the channel. A fantastic day out indeed and I am almost convinced by the arguments of that lady in Fisherman’s wharf though of course both places have their advantages. I have tried selling the arguments in favour of Cardiff bay to the rest of the family but upset by not being invited to California this year are suggesting we all go back next – far more expensive than a train to the docks but impressive enough to give us plenty of good memories but and worthwhile as long as we don’t forget what is on our doorstep where as far as I am aware the chances of meeting naked men in Starbucks are fairly remote.