A couple of weekends ago, we attended ExpreSCION San Francisco, courtesy of J's employer. Sponsored by Scion*, it promised a "multi-sensory art experience" on Alcatraz with "cutting edge music, fashion, performance, and art." Neither of us had been to Alcatraz before, though its been on the to-do list for some time, and a night visit with cocktails and thumping soundtrack sounded like just our thing.
(*To refresh your memory, Scion is well-known for their urban suv resembling a milk truck...)
The crowd was made up of (I assume) Scion owners and those who love them, plus assorted hangers-on like ourselves. Most were decked out in a mix of ironic tshirts, knee-high boots, knit hats, suits, heels and eyeliner for both sexes. I believe there was a healthy amount of faux fur as well. On the ferry ride over we spotted two cast members from the Boston and Seattle seasons of the Real World, the extent of celebrity sightings.
Upon arrival, we funneled through the main cellblock to the dining hall on the far end. The long, very low-ceilinged room was the location of the only bar, live music on a stage at one end and projections everywhere. The space was quickly packed with bodies and stayed that way all night, with people constantly circling in the queue for bottles of flavored sake or plastic cups of wine.
In the basement, the shower room became an impromptu runway for "eco-conscious" fashion; the chapel upstairs housed a gallery, dj, and live painting event. There was also another wing containing a circus performance, which we missed. Aside from these areas, you were able to wander along quiet stretches of the prison untouched by events staff, and the effect in contrast was quite unsettling.
After spending a couple of hours checking everything out, we felt like we'd maxed out the experience and made our way back down to the boat launch, where we quickly discovered...nothing. No boats back. At this point the crowd seemed a little disgruntled: they weren't quite drunk enough, the high-heels were becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and they were stuck on Alcatraz. I would be disgruntled too (and was, a little. Adidas helped).
After an hour or so, during which the crowd surprisingly kept at a simmer, the first return ferry arrived, and we rushed to get on along with the other two hundred people waiting. You would've thought we'd been on the island for a week: the relief was palpable. People sprawled on chairs, on the floor, anywhere possible, and ordered six packs and multiple shots at the bar for the fifteen-minute trip back to SF.
Very interesting evening. Cool idea, go Scion.
