It was nearing 11:30 at night when we stumbled out of the San Francisco airport on Sunday evening, the rest of the US was passed out from their 4th of July activities earlier that day. It was cold and windy, 57 degrees to be exact.

I debated our options - the BART would take us as far as downtown but then we would have to hoof it for a few miles carrying bags and basically looking like sitting ducks...in a city I've only been to one other time. We could try to find a shared shuttle bus to the Wharf that may be bringing other travellers to that district. Or we could catch a cab and pay a large fare.

We crossed the drop off/pick-up zone and continued towards the cabs. Fuck it. I just want to get to the hostel, I thought to myself. A man spoke to me in a russian/eastern european accent - $45 to San Francisco.... We accepted. He loaded our bags into the trunk. I took note of his license plate that indicated that he was a "livery taxi". Once inside the car, it was dark and silent. My mind started to wander and thoughts of the movie Taken began flashing through my mind. It was just me and my 7 year old daughter, virtually helpless in a large urban area where I only knew 2 people, both via the internet. I gave the driver the address and he punched it into his GPS and immediately got onto his cell phone and began speaking to someone in Russian as he sped through the streets and highway. I handed myc cellphone to Ana and told her to keep ahold of it just in case something happened. Shortly after, my phone spontaneously went dead. I did start to panic at this point - rational or irrational, I couldn't tell. My mind was racing and I was thinking of different scenarios or escape routes/ideas, THEN, he whips into the long driveway to the hostel near Fisherman's Wharf and deposits us at the steps. I handed him $80 bucks and booked it. He seemed pretty happy at this tip. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there and into a bed at that point. Whew. Fucking movies!