California uber alles
Just under a year ago I left England’s green and pleasant lands (grey and wet if truth be told) and headed to San Francisco. Let me tell you, they do nudity here a lot.

The Bay to Breakers race a fortnight ago for example. Several runners did the 10K race in nothing more than a pair of running shoes. Call me Mr Picky but running makes certain male and female attributes flop around in a way that looks painful to them and leaves the spectators needing brain bleach. Please god never let nude running become an Olympic sport.

Then there’s the Folsom Street Fair. Imagine Gay Pride, but for the kinkier end of the community. A stroll through the fair reveals flogging booths, communal golden showers and some of the scariest bears* I’ve ever seen wearing nipple clamps that looked like bulldog clips and surgical clamps had sneaked off for a quick shag and yielded mutant spawn out of Giger’s worst nightmares.

Not to mention the hot springs. California’s riddled with the things, due to sitting on a geological time bomb that could turn the state into Arizona Bay**. Most are described as ‘clothing optional,’ which means “wear clothes if you want to be gawped at like the Elephant Man doing the runway at London Fashion Week.” The memory of the girlfriend taking me to a nude yoga session at one such spring still has me shuddering, and not in a good way.

Then there’s the nude beaches. Baker Beach in the city has no delineation between the clothed and nude section, so one minute you’re ambling along admiring the families gambolling in the view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the next minute it’s rusty sheriff’s badges as far as the eye can see. Don’t get me wrong, nothing wrong with nudism, but some warning would have been nice.

I was persuaded to disrobe and some warnings about the sun would be useful. There are some parts of me that haven’t seen the sun in over 25 years and despite liberal and repeated applications of sunblock certain parts got sunburnt. The only plus side was the slight amusement value of having a dick that looked like a stripy barber’s pole when excited, even if it was too painful to do anything with.

Finally there’s the general public disrobing. Now, like 90 per cent of men and a fair few women I’ve been caught short on the way home from the pub. So you find a discrete corner, unzip, water the plants and move on. Not so here. My first day at work there’s a bloke pissing against the side of the building, 10am in bright sunshine. And not unzipping and doing his business. Trousers around the ankles, arm above his head on the wall supporting the body at 60 degrees and loud sighs of relief.

Nudity is a good thing, particularly in the right places, but I can’t help feeling that the San Franciscans have taken things a wee bit too far.

*Bears – large bearded gay chaps. They have conventions and everything. Nice to know there’s something for all sorts.
** © Bill Hicks
(paxvobiscum, Thu 28 May 2009, 20:50, 9 replies)

You do realise
that the Ancient Greek Olympics were performed entirely in the buff?
(Toucan - http://www.titmonday.com, Thu 28 May 2009, 20:53, closed)

Of course
But now we have lycra, breathable fabrics and easy to wear supports.
(paxvobiscum, Thu 28 May 2009, 23:19, closed)

It's
Giger, not Geiger.
(Daft Vader, Thu 28 May 2009, 21:51, closed)

Oh cock
Thanks for that, changing now.
(paxvobiscum, Thu 28 May 2009, 23:21, closed)

...
wee bit too far....
Nice.
(SpangoTheWonderBadger is brewing beer, Fri 29 May 2009, 10:20, closed)

Scots ancestry coming through
But I see you're point fnar
(paxvobiscum, Fri 29 May 2009, 19:43, closed)

Aha!
Having just read that back through with a scots accent, it's all so much funnier!

have a click!
(EffinDoubt is breaking glass on, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 16:03, closed)

Pulled up with my friends onto Haight
I'm about to get out of the car when I realise that I would effectively be getting out right next to the very attactive young lady pissing in the gutter with her minge out for all to see. We just sat there silently until she finished and went away.

Great city.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 29 May 2009, 16:12, closed)

I've seen more of it than back home in London
Although I'm surprised it was Haigh not the Tenderloin; that area's usually much nicer. My second day here I was walking down to a sports bar to watch the Grand Prix and a woman a block ahead just lifted her dress and squatted. No, I wasn't in Kansas anymore :)
(paxvobiscum, Fri 29 May 2009, 19:40, closed)