why I did not leave my heart in San Francisco.

(and other musings on what was an adventurous weekend.)

sanfranI’m going to be brutally honest. I was pretty unimpressed by you, SF. Had it not been for a rockstar like Danielle LaPorte coming to your city to speak to my soul, I probably could have lived my life without ever knowing you, even though meeting you has been on my 101 list.

When it comes to first impressions, yours was lacking in luster. In fact, it was covered in dirt and garbage and things I’m sure came out of either end of a human being. But hey. Not all big cities can be as clean and lovely as Seattle. Or Boston. Or Denver.

I did enjoy a good thirty minutes of entertainment overlooking the Union Square ice rink, watching a weirdo in skinny sweats (I didn’t even know that was a thing until this weekend) do something that I am sure he was thinking somehow resembled figure skating. Except—he was wearing hockey skates and I don’t think doing a flamboyant version of the shopping cart would wow the Olympic judges. It was entertaining, nonetheless, and a way to pass time while I awaited my friends’s arrival.

You do have the kindness and compassion thing pretty well nailed down. When I left my debit card in the ATM (again), I returned to the branch in hopes I could get it returned. When the bank manager explained that it was policy to shred them and I broke down crying, explaining that I was on vacation and needed it to check into my hotel, she was willing to bend the rules, only to be foiled by the Good Samaritan who had seen me leave the card behind and turned it in to the lost and found for me to collect without hassle. Although my travel companion did not have the same good fortune—she had all of her belongings stolen from our car while we did the tourist thing on the waterfront. That was pretty gross and appalling, although I suppose it could happen anywhere.

I wish that you would extend that same level of compassion to your homeless population. I couldn’t walk five feet without running into (or tripping over) someone huddled in a doorway or bundled up on the sidewalk, just hoping to stay dry. Then again, on a few occasions, I mistook a person for a pile of garbage, since people seem to leave that heaped up on the sidewalks as well.

We did manage to find a few gastronomic gems hidden around – Tacko, Cafe Prague in the financial district, and Philz (Holy hell was that a great cup of joe. I only wish I had bothered to grab another.). What I really wanted was some of the delicious smelling Thai food truck on Market & 2nd, but I didn’t get the memo that the entire street was closed on Saturdays.

While the weekend was spent in good company, I do know where my heart is and will always be – the Mile High City just can’t be beat.

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02 Comments

  • I recently bought and wear with love my skinny sweats. Now that that’s out of the way….

    Okay, I hated San Francisco, too. My friend and I were not allowed a seat at a table of a completely empty sushi Restaurant in some fancy district because we were wearing sweats (why do sweats keep coming up?). They sat us at the bar and said every single table was reserved. No one came in the entire time we were there and it was obvious BS they told us because we weren’t dressed to their tastes. I went to multiple organic restaurants with shitty overcooked food and overpriced boxed wine served in mason jars. Everything was very expensive everywhere. Homelessness and heroin were evident. A bird pooped on my chest while taking a lunch break with my boss at Fort Mason. When I changed the song on the stereo of the rental car my boss was driving back to the airport, he called me DJ Shit Tits… for the rest of my employment.

    The one redeeming event was a “Goddess Circle” I randomly found myself invited to. We learned about a Goddess in Chinese folklore and took turns in the mirror proclaiming ourselves goddesses. Then we belly danced in a circle.

    I’ll never go back to SF if I can help it.

    Reply
    • So what are skinny sweats? Like yoga pants but thicker? Because I love my yoga pants.

      My friend also got to enjoy a public peep show first thing Saturday morning, but we’re not talking about that…

      Reply

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