Meet Erick. My smoking hot, ultra tall, uber skinny with cheekbones that can cut class friend whom is studying some really intensely intellectually advanced degree to do with brains or something. We've known each other for several years, usually bonding over a bottle of wine in a back alley in Surry Hills some happy-hour drinks at the local water hole.
He is my go to friend for a good night out in town, but I've never, ever, considered him as a travel buddy. Not because there is something insanely wrong with him (Apart from the fact that he won the lottery and got the whole looks and brains package) but because travel has never been a topic we've really discussed.
Yet when I got the opportunity to fly to the US for a holiday, I extended an invitation to him. Though, to be honest, I was expecting my half-hearted invitation to come join me 16 hours across the world, to be met with a 'Would totally love too but I can't soz' reply.
But instead, It was met with a huge exclamation of 'Yes! Yes! Yes!'. Kind of like the bad scripts in budget pornos.
Forward 3 months and we are in the opposite hemisphere in San Francisco, living that American Starbucks life, drinking grande mocha frappuccinos with extra whipped cream every day.
What they say about San Francisco being a city full of hills and mountains is definitely not an understatement. Prepare to walk up and down hills one after the other, prepare to start driving and parking on the steepest hills of your life, and prepare to end up with the most toned legs of your life after visiting here.
Even though we were in this beautiful city for only 5 days, we had such a blast. From our late night escapades to the laundromat because we were running out of clean undies to hitting the best gay clubs of our life up at 1am only to find out that any place serving alcohol closes at 2am.