San Francisco

An old college friend, we’ll call her Hilary, has a friend living in San Francisco who wanted to know if I needed a place to crash.

Is “Waterworld” the worst movie in the history of cinema?

(yes)

So I went from the deep suburbs of San Francisco to the city itself, and here I am staying with a friend of a friend (who we’ll call Joanna), sleeping on the carpeted dining room floor.

“Make yourself at home! Bring home three girls if you want! Any friend of Hilary’s….”

So three’s the limit, eh?

While exploring the neighborhood, I realized bringing home girls may not be so easy. This place is more flaming than… no, nothing is more flaming than this neighborhood. This is the very epicenter of the stereotype of gay San Francisco. Rainbows adorn cars, shop windows and lampposts. Bookstores sell gay porn. Lots of it. Bus stops advertise HIV awareness. A little Dachshund waddles along the sidewalk behind his two impeccably dressed masters. Another couple in their fifties wear matching jogging outfits as they huff and puff down the sidewalk. I overhear a man say "Oh Gawd, wasn't that movie just a scream?" You get the picture.

Suddenly in the minority, I might feel self conscious if gay men weren’t the only minority I could conceivably pass for. I feel less self conscious for my sexuality than I do for my obvious lack of hipness. I spend an hour in a café with a DJ spinning in the corner, and the new iPhones are too numerous to count. Ok, not really. There were five of them.

In a completely random yet somewhat related anecdote, I remember reading once that in his day, Jerry Falwell would call two congressmen and one senator every single day, just to wish them well and encourage them to keep doing “God’s work.” The Congressmen wouldn’t hear from him as often, but I imagined the poor senator hanging up the phone, knowing that in 100 days, a mere three and a half months away, he would have to put up with the same phone call all over again. It makes me wonder how the Senate felt about his passing.

For all of my ribbing and jesting, I do like this neighborhood and the city as a whole. The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art was spectacular, mostly due to not one but two photography exhibits. And the city is just lousy with crazies who could compete with Berlin's crazies anyday.

Yes, it's a great town, even if I never do get to see the damn bridge.