The last time I was in Frisco I stayed at the Drake. Got in late and took a cab to the bar they filmed the Bogart scene in Maltese Falcon...started drinking...did my Bogart impression.....drank some more......did my Peter Lorre impression, realized wrong movie....drank some more.
Somehow I make it back to the Drake, and passed out.....
Around 6:30am I wake up and hear the most amazing saxophone I have ever heard. Crawl to the window and look out on Sutter and I see an old brother on the corner with His pan out front looking for coin. There is absolutely no one else around, only me 6 floors up sitting on the window ledge listening to the most soulful sound. He was playing so each note sort of hung in the air. Some would drag on in almost agony before he would break them off ala Coltrane. For me it was a surreal experience the way the tone reverberated against all the stone and concrete. No cars or trolleys to fuck with the sound. Just that one cat blowing that horn.
I listened to him for about an hour before I threw some clothes on and went downstairs to throw him a $50.
It was Frisco, and I love that fucking city.