I was missing the fog, the lonely mournful sound of a fog horn over the bay. I was missing walking down the street alone. Lately, the streets are overcrowded, everywhere I go there is a gaggle of people, lines for restaurants, Muni, Bart and bathrooms. Dolores Park once a sanctuary for the displaced soccer players and conga drummers is now so crowded with hipsters you have to watch where you step, because you just might step on one of them, gone are the days of stepping in dog poop. Where do all these annoying people come from and why are they always in my flippin' way???
Well, I had have enough, I woke up early this morning 4:30am as a matter of fact and headed out. The streets were deserted, just the way I like them. It is only during this time that the City really reveals it's soul. If I could have a Zombie Apocalyse, it would be to eat hipsters, then they would die out, because the zombies would eat their brains and gain NO knowledge and die off, leaving the City just as it was this morning. Deserted. Sorry I am digressing, I wanted to see the backstreets of yesteryear, does bread still get delivered at dawn? Are there men working while the rest of the City slumbers. I had to know!! Apparently on Sunday mornings, not so much I traveled to North Beach, nothing snaked my way to AT&T park and found an open doughnut shop. The denizens were all there, the Cop, the bus driver, the creepy guy who sits at the back table. Ok, things were looking up! This is the San Francisco I was looking for my hopes lifted by this encounter I continued on my journey.
I headed to the wharf, the San Francisco Bay does not change, time passes through it. When you look across and see Alcatraz, you can not tell if there are any inmates looking back towards you. The Golden Gate Bridge stands as beautiful as the day it was built, a gateway to the promised land. The Bay is splayed out before me and the fog horn sounds it's warning to passing ships. The waves lap against the piers and the seagulls call out to each other about another promising meal that awaits them. The wharf is empty of tourist, just pure San Francisco beckons me. I walk under a light post and imagine Sam Spade's face appearing out of the fog as a match lights his features for an instant as he inhales that first puff of smoke from his cigarette. I look over the Bay and make my way across the bridge to the other side.
Marin is only beautiful because of it's breathtaking view of San Francisco I feel so lucky sitting here at the edge of a cliff overlooking the bridge, the Bay and the City. The sun is up now, it's full glory shining over the Bay. I feel blessed to have this as my backyard, to see this on a daily basis makes one a little giddy. I understand why so many flock here, but to truly appreciate this City you have to have been born here. It is in your blood, it is under your skin. You live and breathe San Francisco and all it's quirky history it makes you quirky too. You are a part of something special that no one can touch. I am a native born and bred in San Francisco. I will probably die here and I won't mind it one little bit. If I never left my little neighborhood I don't think I would have ever missed that much. I have met people from all walks of life, from around the world and all I have ever had to do is walk outside my front door.
