By Greg Zeman
The Guardsman

All of the Guardsman editors had a recent meeting where we came up with this crazy idea for our editorial: What if everybody in the United States was protected by some kind of law that ensured their right to freely practice the religion of their choice, regardless of the opinion or prejudice of the majority? I know, it seems like pretty radical stuff—we all thought the same thing at first—but we discussed it endlessly and, in the end, it seemed only fair.

So imagine our surprise when we discovered there is a document called “The United States Constitution” that has been around since 1787. And guess what, it already provides the kind of religious freedom we agreed to advocate at our editor’s meeting.

Needless to say, we were as disappointed as we were shocked by the discovery of this “Constitution,” which beat us to the punch on our “religious tolerance” idea by over 200 years, but we have since decided to embrace it.

Furthermore, we have pledged to let the people who don’t know about the religious freedoms guaranteed to them know:

1. “The Constitution” does exist
2.  It does protect people of all religions
3. People of all religions include Muslims.

The Torment of Sisyphus

Those of you who have taken (or are now taking) a mythology course are familiar with the agony of Sisyphus—the ancient, Greek king doomed to roll a boulder up a towering hill in Hades again and again for all eternity as punishment for thinking he was so damned clever.

Having said that, you are hereby informed that I have returned to The Guardsman as Editor in Chief, despite my well-documented declaration that I would, “never work at that [expletive] paper ever again, even if they paid me in gold and gefilte fish.”

Which, for the record, they most definitely are not doing.

Clever Subhead

We’ve got some brand new content in the paper this semester, like “Escape From City College,” our own Op/Ed Editor Nick Palm’s record of his continuing efforts to… well, actually, the title is pretty much self-explanatory.

I appreciate Mr. Palm’s razor wit, wry humor and keen eye for absurdity, but what I really appreciate most is that he’s giving me the opportunity to run a picture of Kurt Russel as “Snake” Plissken in the 1981 film Escape From New York.

Thanks Nick, you’re A-number-one.

But we also have the return of a Guardsman classic. That’s right; after months of waking up at 2:15 a.m. to the sound of him slurring desperately into the receiver of various payphones throughout the city, and more recently, watching him burst into bitter tears in front of two young women in the newsroom, I have decided to allow banished Sports Editor Bontá Hill to resurrect the Water Cooler.

I’m sure my bookie is already salivating over all the losing sports bets I’ll be placing now that Mr. Hill is once again gracing our pages with his athletic expertise. Thankfully, I held on to my crutches from his “stone cold lock” on the Colts against the Saints in last season’s Super Bowl.

And as an extra treat to our readers, I didn’t bring back Suite/Street 415. Enjoy.

—GZ

By Nick Palm
The Guardsman

Oh City College, will you ever loosen the stranglehold you have on the neck of my education?

I appreciate every positive learning experience I’ve had with you and your passionate, devoted instructors, but sometimes I feel like a caterpillar forced into a coma – cocooned against my will. And only you can decide when I can move on from your purgatory of enlightenment.

Once in a while, I still cross paths with former high school classmates while traversing Cloud Circle. Six years ago, these encounters would lead to a warm embrace, three to five minutes of back and forth catching up time, and most likely a short debate on either puppies or nuclear disarmament, depending on the person.

Fast-forward half a decade. I cross paths with a former elementary school chum-turned-high school acquaintance. This time around, there is no acknowledgement of each other’s existence. There is no mention of that time in fourth grade when we crushed the fifth graders in a game of kickball.

We are both far too embarrassed because most people from our graduating class have already finished college and moved on with their wonderful lives, filled with champagne, easy women, and a Maserati to match your outfit every day of the week. That’s what you get when you graduate college, right?

I know I’m not alone. The average age of a City College student is 33. Many are trapped, like myself, on this depressing prison island. So I write this column for you, my eternal-undergrad friends.

If you can rattle off every food item – including the price – that the “roach coach” has to offer, this is for you. If you’ve taken more courses at City College than Baskin Robbins has flavors, this is for you. If you’ve ever considered naming your first born child Batmale or Rosenberg, this is not for you. You have much deeper issues that I can’t help with.   Consider seeing a therapist.

As for the rest: Let me be your Snake Plissken. Follow me as I lead the way and attempt to…”Escape From City College!!!”

In this version of the epic Kurt Russel movie, there are no night raiders. Air Force One has not crashed into the Science Hall. I will not have to find and rescue the President within 24 hours. And no microscopic explosives were injected into my carotid arteries to ensure my allegiance.

[Editor’s note: all Guardsman staff members are injected with allegiance ensuring, microscopic explosives.]

It’s just me, my backpack, and copious amounts of caffeine constantly fueling my will to accomplish this mission.

After years of changing my major from English to English literature, to graphic design, to interior design, to macaroni sculpture, to elderly care and control and now finally to journalism; taking superfluous courses; nearly mastering the German language and wallowing in the fog, I am ready to transfer to a four-year school.

On my journey, I have narrowly escaped whimsical danger. I have battled my foes to their death. I have ascended the peaks of colossal mountains. Well, maybe not mountains. But dominant hills for sure.

Hear my battle cry from the tops of those small, insignificant hills. Follow my adventure this semester, as I fumble through my final required courses, apply to universities, and question everything along the way.

I know I’m not alone in this process. Please friends, share with me your own stories of trials and tribulations, hopes and fears, as you’ve attempted to conquer this beast they call City College. I want to know what you’ve been through.

Together, we will let our community know just how much we’ve attempted to accomplish all these years. And maybe, just maybe, we can emerge victorious as we escape this allegorical cave.

Then, we will ride majestic unicorns to candy mountain, and bathe our weary souls in lakes and rivers consisting entirely of fine Cabernets and bourbons, respectively. Then, we will slide down the freedom rainbow, and share our tales with the real world.

And attempt to stay out of mental institutions by doing so.

Until next time, my disciples. Stay strong. Stick it to the man with a smile on your face and a beer in your hand.

By Greg Zeman
The Guardsman

As both a news editor and a columnist, I haven’t always lived up to my admittedly lofty aspirations.

In the words of Benjamin Franklin, “I didn’t fail the test, I just found 100 ways to do it wrong.”

In defense of my column and section: You can pull images and text from both of them quite easily, using silly putty. And with a little effort and patience, they can also be folded into a hat or a sailboat.

Oh, by the way…

Maybe it’s because I always write this column in the wee hours of the morning — after drinking hard liquor all night — but I almost forgot to mention that you’ll never see me again, at least not round these parts.

Don’t get me wrong, you’ll still see me at City College. In fact, thanks to all the time I dedicated to The Guardsman, instead of transferable credit class work, I’ll probably get to stay here even longer than I had planned.

Vesuvio

North Beach gets a bad rap, and it totally deserves it.

The “best” bar there is Vesuvio, a crumbling, tourist-infested monument to its own bygone social relevance.

This place shamelessly exploits the reputation of its long-departed “regulars” and its incidental proximity to City Lights bookstore in a desperate attempt to up the “cool” factor by making it look less like what it is  — a watering hole for Midwestern families lost on their way to Joe’s Crabshack.

The fact that Ken Kesey dropped acid there on occasion is pretty unremarkable — is there anywhere in the Bay Area that he didn’t?

And yes, Jack Kerouac and other beat generation luminaries drank here once upon a time, but I’m pretty certain they’d promptly vomit if they saw who drinks there now.

I considered channeling William Burroughs, typing a bunch of hyphenated obscenities on a typewriter, cutting them out individually by hand with a straight razor and using rubber cement to reorganize the pieces into a monolithic vulgarity to describe this place.

But then I ran out of Benzedrine and bug powder, so I decided to just say Vesuvio sucks.
So now we’re going back to the Lower Haight to drink beer!

Toronado

The Toronado is named after a car you are definitely not cool enough to even imagine yourself driving, so don’t feel bad if this bar intimidates you when you first walk in.

First things first, there is no liquor there. That isn’t a typo or a drunken hallucination on my part, they seriously do not have any hooch.

That said, whereas most bars have 10 or 15 beers and get away with boasting a “wide variety,” this place does like I did when I turned 21, and buys gallons of every kind of beer imaginable.

On an average day, they have about 200 kinds of beer available, with roughly 20 on tap.

Don’t go there and ask for PBR; they will seriously yell at you. In fact, don’t go there for anything you’ve already had. Just think of this as the Ocean Avenue Books of beer and get lost in the pursuit of unexplored brews.

As my final farewell to you, let me leave you with these words from Winston Churchill, a famous drunkard and British person who looked like a silly little bulldog.

“I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me.”

At least that’s what I tell myself.

By the way…

If for some reason you don’t drink alcohol (and I highly recommend you start soon, because things are only getting worse) there’s something special and free for you on the corner of Scott and Waller, not far from the Toronado:  a labyrinth.

Now I know what you’re thinking, and I’m sorry for putting the image of David Bowie wearing impossibly tight, shiny pants in your head, but this isn’t a gigantic maze with an inappropriately attired Muppet fairy king or an axe-wielding novelist with cabin fever in it — it isn’t a maze at all.

You can get lost in a maze, and I wouldn’t do that to you. A labyrinth is an open “path” on the floor that has lots of twists and turns. But there are no wrong turns — it all leads to the same place in the center. I guess that’s a little fatalistic if you take it too seriously, but it’s a fun way to meditate and kill a few hours.

And if you have been drinking, you can still walk it, provided you can still walk.

Speaking of which, there’s another one a block up California from the Tonga Room at Grace Cathedral — actually, there’s two; one inside the church and one out front. So if you’ve been enjoying the tropical scenery down the block and decide that it’s sacrilege to stagger into a cathedral to get your kicks, there’s option B.

Then again, if you decide that option A is more your speed, you have my unequivocal, non-denominational blessing.

In the words of Father Sinatra, “Alcohol may be man’s worst enemy, but the bible says love your enemy.”

Amen Frank, Amen.

Brass Tacks:

Vesuvio 2/5

I mean, you can purchase liquor here, and there’s a place to anonymously yell at people, so two points, but just barely.

Toronado 4.5/5

Half a point off for lack of booze, which incidentally can be procured a stone’s throw away … but I don’t want to give away the precise location of my 12/5 star, top secret hideout in the Lower Haight, so I aint’ naming no names.

By Bontã Hill
The Guardsman

Just two years ago, this little whippersnapper named Bontã Hill walked into bungalow 214, home of The Guardsman, curious to know what it took to join the school newspaper.

After that, a good friend of mine sent me two sports writing books for Christmas urging me to start writing. To be honest, it was the only way I was going to stay in school.

With no journalism experience (does reading the Sporting Green from the age of 10 count for something?), I was assigned to a women’s basketball game at City College, and after writing that story, my hunger to become a better journalist grew with each assignment.

Two years later, my time with The Guardsman is coming to a close. But it has not been without great memories, classic run-ins with members on staff and the joy of expanding the recognition of City College athletics here on campus.

Chasing down the likes of George Rush, Justin Labagh and Jamie Hayes for quotes will be something I will surely reminisce about 15 years later.

Going forward, the Cooler has served its last cup, meaning the future for The Guardsman is sure to be dryer than the Sahara Desert.

All kidding aside, it’s been a pleasure to make all you readers laugh and get away from the daily grind of going to school. To the people who stopped me on campus to talk about various topics in my column, thank you.

I couldn’t be more proud in saying that my journalism career started right here at City College.

Idiot of the Week

My protege and current sports editor here on campus suggested I do an Idiot of the Semester.

I know I can’t go wrong with JaMarcus Russell, Josh McDaniels and Ben Roethlisberger, but after last week, how can I pass up the opportunity to recognize a guy who used to take quarterbacks’ heads off while on cocaine?

This honor of course goes to the original L.T., Lawrence Taylor. While he’s had a long list of off-field troubles, last week’s was probably the most embarrassing moment of his life.

While in New York last weekend, Taylor was looking to have a little fun in his Holiday Inn room He contacted Rasheed Davis, who had a prostitute pay Taylor a visit.

The 51-year-old Taylor was told the girl was 19, and Taylor then paid $300. The catch? The girl was 16, still a couple of years away from being classified as an adult.

The girl, who was reported missing by her family in March, met Davis at a Bronx bus stop two to three weeks ago. Federal prosecutors say she told investigators that the 36-year-old parolee offered her a place to live and a way to make money.

It is simply unbelievable that Taylor, with a long list of run-ins with the law, would put himself in that position.

Taylor could face up to 10 years in prison and a life-time sex-offender registration if convicted. It’s a shame that he has given the African-American community a black eye.

Whatever the outcome is, L.T. is a fool, fool enough to be the Idiot of the Semester.

Misc.

I loved how Floyd “Money” Mayweather took apart Shane Mosley on May 1 to once again hush his critics. Mayweather upped his record to 41-0 and hopefully, $40 million to $50 million dollars will convince Manny Pacquiao to take a blood test and make the fight between himself and Mayweather happen.

In hockey news, the San Jose Sharks are four wins away from  their first ever Stanley Cup Final. Is it me, or does it seem like the Bay Area sports landscape is starting to look a little more promising? This region is overdue for sporting success.

Lastly, how about the guy who blasted A-Rod for stepping on the pitcher’s mound? Oakland A’s pitcher Dallas Braden threw the 19th perfect game in Major League Baseball history on Mother’s Day against the Tampa Bay Rays with his grandmother watching in the bleachers.

Nothing like a great sports moment to end a great run at The Guardsman.

By Bontã Hill
The Guardsman

There has been no shortage of sporting news since I last talked to you.

The NBA Playoffs have gotten off to a hot start, and the San Jose Sharks made it to the second round and look serious about bringing the Stanley Cup to the Bay Area.

And 49ers fans everywhere have to be imagining big things for the upcoming season since the team beefed up their roster at the past weekend’s NFL draft.

Also, with the super fight between Sugar Shane Mosely and Floyd Mayweather Jr. coming up, there’s no reason for me to get off my couch.

With that said, I can’t help but think about how this is my next-to-last column ever in The Guardsman. That’s right folks, The Water Cooler is down to its last two cups of water.

It’s a bittersweet moment indeed. My time boring you, hurting your eyes and making you use this paper as a fly swatter has been a great experience.

The Guardsman has provided me the opportunity to speak my mind on one of the few things I love in this world — sports. It’s also been exciting, stressful and time consuming.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade this experience for a 99-cent bag of sour cream and onion Ruffles (those who know me know I run through two bags a day. I’m so addicted.)

I am proud to give The Guardsman credit for opening a lot of doors for me. It gave me the opportunity to announce men’s basketball games here at City College, the chance to get to work with the prestigious football team and the chance to meet all the great athletes and coaches from all the athletic programs.

As I continue my journey through college as a bona fide sports junky, life just won’t be the same without The Water Cooler.

Idiot of the Week

There was a slew of pathetic acts this week, but I can only admit one person into the Idiot Hall of Fame, so some hopefuls will probably be disappointed. But in a wave of stupidity that could qualify him for the Idiot of the Month, this edition is admitting Ben Roethlisberger, quarterback of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

This comes following his six-game suspension by commissioner Roger Goodell after a 20-year-old girl from Georgia accused “Big Ben” of sexual assault. Although he was not charged because prosecutors did not have enough evidence, this is the second time in two years a woman has come out accusing Roethlisberger of foul play.

Now, not only has Roethlisberger’s wild nights cost him six games of his season, it will probably cost the Steelers a playoff berth. With his reputation scarred and his giving the NFL attention for all the wrong reasons, Big Ben is a fool to keep putting himself in danger due to ridiculous judgments.

Welcome to the I.H.O.F. Ben.

Miscellaneous

After wearing egg on my face about my infamous Super Bowl prediction, I’ll go out on a limb by predicting the San Francisco Giants will not make the playoffs.

It’s tough, since Giants fans have the feeling this team could be great. And they can, if they can figure out a way to produce some runs on the board.

I just can’t help it, considering the offense is filled with free swingers of average speed and minimal power — with the exception of Pablo Sandoval. Yes, the Giants pitching is by far one of the best in baseball, but until they get a legitimate offense, they simply won’t be able to hang with the Colorado Rockies.

It pains to write what I have just written about the Giants, but I’m a realist, and the Giants are the second-best team in the National League West.

By Greg Zeman
The Guardsman

Greg Zeman receives a $13 Martini at the Top of the Mark restaurant in San Francisco on April 6. RAMSEY EL-QARE / THE GUARDSMAN

Checkout time
In the immortal words of James Ingram, “I tried my best, but I guess my best wasn’t good enough.”

What started as a dream of turning City College students on to affordable entertainment opportunities has morphed into a nightmare hit-parade of $50-a-plate champagne brunches, pointless elevator rides and destinations outside city limits.

When I look at my creation, I no longer see my beautiful baby but instead a hideous Frankenstein monster which must be reformed or destroyed.

It all started with four little words.

“Make it about hotels.”
It seemed like a good idea, until the smoke cleared and my Pell Grant money had run out. Then it seemed like a silly idea – one rooted in the naive assumption that City College students have the money or desire to hang out in hotels.

I’ve been known to party too hard and end up in a hotel the next morning, but it’s usually the kind of place that comes with a small bar of soap – if I’m lucky – and an ashtray that doubles as a clock radio.

What happened?
I was sitting at the Top of the Mark – a crummy, over-priced tourist trap that feels stuffy, even with panoramic windows on the 19th floor – stingily sipping a $13 martini and utterly loathing myself for buying it.

Maybe it was the literal penthouse lounge that broke the figurative camel’s back or maybe my heart just grew three sizes that day, but I realized I had failed my readers, this city and myself.

This quick and dirty rundown of three amazing places in San Francisco that students might actually have an interest in – and be able to afford without skipping cell phone payments – is my small attempt at penance.

Café International
If you feel positive vibrations at the corner of Haight and Fillmore Streets, they’re probably coming from Café International. To get some fresh air and relative seclusion with your coffee, you can step out on the back patio; if you just want to have a draft beer and a bagel at 10:30 in the morning, the seating inside is spacious and comfortable.

There’s free jazz on Sundays, free entertainment almost every night and food and brew at student prices.

Tommy’s Joynt
Is it a tourist-trap? Maybe, but it’s a fair-priced one that offers gigantic sandwiches and other fine foods. Their bar is big, diverse, and a cozy spot to have a bite and a beer. You can also eat buffalo there, if that sort of thing appeals to you.

Cash only, but you won’t need much – bring ten bucks and you’ll leave happy.

Tommy’s Joynt is located on the corner of Van Ness Avenue and Geary Street.

Trad’r Sam
Yup, it’s a bar, and since the average age of a City College student is roughly 35, I feel comfortable telling you about it. If you’re under 21, I’m sorry.

It has an Internet jukebox, so beware of those taking a drunken stagger down memory lane. Or, be that guy and do it yourself.

It’s everything good about a tiki lounge with most of the down-home charm of a traditional dive bar. Drinks are stupid cheap, stupid potent and will make you stupid. Trad’r Sam is located on Geary Street between 25th and 26th avenues.

Out of the suite and into the street
Until we meet again.

By Bontã Hill
The Guardsman

Fresh off of spring break, it’s good to be active again in terms of leaving the house and having something productive to do.

Yup, all I did for vacation was play video games, log major hours on Facebook and watch Butler University’s improbable run through the NCAA Tournament.

Speaking of Butler, what a performance they put on this March. I know they lost to Duke 61-59 in the national championship game, but they are still the story of this year’s epic tournament.

You would think I’d be bitter about not having one Final Four team in my bracket (not a typo). Watching Butler though, a school with 4,200 students, knock off heavyweights Syracuse and Kansas State to get to the Final Four was amazing. Then they outlasted Michigan State in the National Semifinals. How could you not be inspired by their story?

The scrappy bunch with a head coach who looks like he’s 18 (Brad Stevens is in fact 33) gave mighty Duke all it could handle and nearly won the game on a half court shot from rising star Gordon Hayward.

With Butler being from Indianapolis and playing the championship game six miles from campus, this story was better than the movie “Hoosiers.” Although they didn’t win it all, this is something even Disney couldn’t make up.

What blows my mind is Butler actually attended classes on the day of the championship. Imagine that — sitting in a math or English class with the biggest game in your life only hours away.

I wonder if they were assigned any exams or pop quizzes. You think the teachers excused them from turning in homework that day?

I didn’t do homework during spring break; I know for sure I wouldn’t be doing it before a championship game. Anyway, thanks Butler for giving college basketball fans one helluva thrill ride.

Idiot of the Week
The idiot of this week is anybody who dished out $50 to watch two old men fight in a rematch 17 years later.

Anybody who thought it was a great idea to help promote this fight between Bernard Hopkins and Roy Jones Jr. ought to look in the mirror and ask themselves, “Why?”

No, it wasn’t money because this fight sure as hell didn’t make any. To those associated with this event — fighters included — and to those who bought the fight, welcome to the Idiot Hall of Fame.

Miscellaneous
The Philadelphia Eagles decided to trade their franchise quarterback Donovon McNabb within their own division to the Washington Redskins. I know, mind boggling.

Why? We’ll never know the real answer, yet the two games between the teams have just became a bit more intriguing…

Before I forget, the NCAA women’s basketball tournament wasn’t too bad at all, even though it came to a familiar ending — Connecticut winning the championship and finishing undefeated for the second year in a row. Winning 78 straight times in any sport is impressive, let alone basketball.

By Bontã Hill
The Guardsman

I’d like to meet the person who came up with the idea of scheduling mid-term exams during the greatest tournament in the world, the NCAA Basketball Tournament.

They should be crucified.

Okay, that’s a bit much, but punishment should be considered.

As students, we’re not allowed to text or look at our phones in class. Not fair considering that Georgetown could potentially be destroying my bracket and giving me no hope at winning my office pool.

How am I supposed to focus on wind patterns and the different types of clouds in geography?

I was told by a teacher that I had spring fever. You know, with the flowers blooming, the anticipation of spring break, nice weather and girls starting to come to school wearing a little less clothing, who wouldn’t be?

Well, she’s right in saying I have a fever, but not because of spring. I have to blame it on something though, because the NCAA tournament has me discombobulated.

Kansas, Kentucky, Syracuse and Baylor were my picks to make the Final Four, with Kansas cutting down the nets in Indianapolis, even though my heart is with Kentucky.

That said, Kansas has already let me down by losing in the second round to Northern Iowa — NORTHERN IOWA!

However, the school’s schedule maker ought to be thrown into the Idiot Hall of Fame. Why would you — whoever is behind this — schedule March Madness, spring break and the great weather that we’re getting near midterms?

The faculty here just doesn’t know how tough it is being a student. They just don’t know…

Idiot of the Week

I have to go local with this one, and due to my deadline to turn this column in — which I missed for the fourth straight issue — I won’t know the full extent of this situation
due to The Guardsman going into production, but I’m going with the San Francisco 49ers front office as this week’s Idiot of the Week.

The 49ers organization announced that General Manager Scot McCloughan was taking a “leave of absence.” Huh? Five weeks before one of the most important NFL drafts in recent history for the 49ers?

Great timing.

As of March 19, there have been reports released to the media that McCloughan’s office has been cleaned out. It’s also been noted that he is going through a divorce.

However, his representative, Peter Schaffer, is saying McCloughan is still on board with the franchise. Some say that is just to get full compensation for his contract as the 49ers are forcing him out.

Why the 49ers have not come out and spoken publicly about this issue is beyond me. This is the type of behavior that one would expect from their neighbors across the bay.

You have to feel bad for McCloughan and angry at the 49ers’ brass. McCloughan, who has been with the organization for five years, has been a big part of the rebuilding of this team through the draft.

The 49ers have the potential to fill some needs and become serious contenders to win the NFC West this season. With a distraction like this, how will it affect the 49ers in attracting free agents or decision making in the upcoming draft?

All this has done is cause confusion, and for the time being, put a halt to the momentum the franchise was starting to gain.

Now, all we know is we don’t have any leadership at the top —something that doesn’t mix with trying to be a winning organization in the NFL.

Miscellaneous

Manny Pacquiao defeated Joshua Clottey on March 13, in front of a crowd of 51,000 at the gorgeous stadium in Arlington, Texas. It was the third largest crowd in U.S. boxing history.

Too bad the fight was a stinker as Clottey decided to collect his check and cover-up instead of throwing a punch. At least I saved $50.

In other news, Texas Rangers’ manager Ron Washington tested positive for cocaine use. He also admitted to using drugs when he was a player in the 1980s.

On that note, I’ll see you folks after spring break.

By Greg Zeman
The Guardsman

Reporter Greg Zeman takes a moment to enjoy the scenery inside the lobby of the Embassy Suites Hotel San Francisco Airport. RAMSEY EL-QARE / THE GUARDSMAN

(Un)natural splendor

In the quest to get your kicks, sometimes you’ve got to wander off the beaten path, or a least find a new one to wander on. I know of such a path that leads to a tranquil oasis, splashed by waterfalls that feed crystal pools filled with colorful fish, shaded by tall trees and gently swept by a cool breeze of air conditioning.

The Tropical Atrium at the Embassy Suites Hotel San Francisco Airport is just the sort of gem I set out to share when I first took the helm of Suite 415. Sure, at $10 a head the all-you-can-eat breakfast is fairly priced and a fairly excellent way to start your day, but the real draw for me is the setting.

If you get tired of simulated =nature, the hotel’s back door opens to Peninsula Beach on the west shore of the bay. There is a paved path that traces the water’s edge, providing unique views of planes coming and going from SFO with the San Mateo Bridge as a backdrop. Like any path, it could lead to adventure. No promises though.

And now, a promise

If you saw the silver lining in my lukewarm Tonga Room review and chanced a visit, you’ve seen first-hand what a failed attempt at an indoor, tropical grotto looks like — a stinky pool with a jazz band floating in it. This is not like that, I promise.

Take that, nature

The ceiling is clear glass and reaches up as high as the top floor, creating an open atmosphere with lots of natural light and air circulation. The soothing gurgle of the waterfall is untainted by unnatural sound. That’s right — no Muzak. It’s basically all the good things about eating outside without any of the less desirable elements like nasty weather, flying insects, crawling insects and insects that crawl and fly — mostly into your food and face.

If you don’t feel like having breakfast, or it isn’t being served when you visit, you can always sit at a waterside table or stand on one of the three wooden bridges spanning the ponds and watch the brilliant spectrum of koi teeming beneath the water’s surface.
Those fish must be incredibly lonely, or just really hungry, because they flocked to wherever I was standing and followed me around like Pac-Man ghosts.

Playing koi

I mentioned in my last article that I’m actually a five-year-old, so for me, the appeal of playing freeze-tag with schools of carp was irresistible. The smell of dense foliage and sizzling eggs and sausage mingled in my nostrils and the babbling waters seemed to giggle with me as I gleefully scampered from bridge to bridge with hordes of colorful fish chasing me. Or was I chasing them?

Either way, management was very understanding about the whole affair.

Verdict 5/5

The Tropical Atrium offers a relaxing atmosphere and a B-plus breakfast buffet at a C-minus price. It boasts fresh waffles and pancakes, eggs cooked-to-order and all the little things, like strong coffee, that make life worth living again after a long night.

There is a small fishing pier a few yards from the hotel, but after playing with the little guys in the pond I didn’t have the heart to do anything but stand on it.

By Bontã Hill
The Guardsman

The wonderful month of March is here and flowers seem to be blooming faster than Greg Zeman’s  rough beard.

Two things make this month special — March Madness and the return of Major League Baseball.

I might be more excited for fantasy baseball as opposed to getting psyched about the 2010 San Francisco Giants. Sorry that I’m not feeling gung-ho about the signings of Aubrey Huff and Mark DeRosa to this season’s club.

The pitching remains solid, but what did the Giants do to improve the pitiful offense from last season? Not much, but the good thing to remember is when have the Giants ever looked good on paper?

The answer is not often. Yet in a division that’s so unpredictable, who knows, maybe the Giants will make some noise and sneak into the playoffs.

I have the rest of semester to break down this year’s team, so let’s switch gears and talk about possibly the most exciting sporting event of the year, the NCAA Tournament.

In a event that has the office geeks scrambling for brackets to fill out, there is nothing like the excitement these three weeks provide.

With Kansas, Kentucky, and Syracuse being the favorites coming in, this year’s tournament looks to be as unpredictable as ever. I’ll refrain from any predictions for the time being but I’m leaning towards the Wildcats from the Bluegrass State.

With Giants baseball, March Madness, and the NFL’s start of the free agency period with no salary cap, March is looking like a month that will provide plenty of excitement and sunshine.

Idiot of the Week
I have to go with Jay McGwire, the younger brother of steroid using, home run bashing Mark McGwire. What a punk this guy Jay is.

As the elder McGwire admitted to using in his playing days, the newly appointed hitting coach of the St. Louis Cardinals must’ve been shocked when he got word his bro was writing a book about him.

Jay’s book, “Mark and Me: Mark McGwire and the Truth Behind Baseball’s Worst-Kept Secret,” is out on bookshelves and chronicles when he introduced his older brother to steroids.
Family and blood is obviously not thicker than money when it comes to the McGwire’s. Welcome Jay to the I.D.H.O.F., you gutless human being.

Miscellaneous
The Winter Olympics are over and I failed to mention anything about them. Sorry, but I did watch the U.S. and Canada gold medal hockey game.

Great drama and excitement, but it ended in heartbreak for the red, white and blue. If you don’t know, Canada won in overtime 3-2 as star Sidney Crosby (who I thought was American with the way this country hypes him) scored the game winner to further enhance his legend status in Canada.

Also, I want to end this column by giving a shot out to men’s basketball team manager Mario Gomez. Reason being, he came into this season with a goal of dropping his weight down to 205 pounds and dropped over 30 pounds to reach it.
To one of the loyal Ram supporters, big ups to Mario for working hard and getting the job done.