'Tis Hard to Leave
On Friday at noon, when I was sitting in a bar drinking a glass of wine in celebration (or contempt, as it may be) of my first law school midterm, Will texted me asking if I would like to meet Anthony and Amanda for dinner in San Francisco.
We met them at a brewery, where a beer and a lemon drop were awaiting our arrival, and we chatted and laughed and I lamented about law school, the only thing I know how to talk about because it's the only thing I do. Ever.
(Seriously, I went to Target today, and I literally shopped from a list, steering the cart only in the direction of the items we needed. Glass cleaner? Check. Cat food? Check. Lotion? Check. Bleach tablets? Check. People, I did not even look to see what new clothes Isaac Mizrahi has out or whether there was a cheap pair of ballet flats that I couldn't pass up.)
San Francisco was as fabulous as always, and for the first time I didn't feel like I needed to rush around to see as much as possible in the limited time associated with a place that is too far away to visit with any regularity. Now, it is a mere hop, skip, and jump away, plus a $4 toll to cross the Bay Bridge.
After drinks, we ate at an Italian restaurant and then visited City Lights, a fantastic independent bookstore. At the end of the night, we were standing outside the bookstore, ready to go our separate ways. Although it was getting cold and we were tired, we couldn't seem to stop the conversation, and we continued to chat and laugh.
The story is so nice up until this point: the pasta, family, conversation, books, laughter. We probably would have stood out there all night--in fact, there's a possibility we could still be standing out there right now--but the party was broken up by a stream of pee that was flowing downhill, right in our direction, sprung from a bum that was using the wall of the bookstore as his personal urinal.
Walter Cronkite once said that "leaving San Francisco is like saying goodbye to an old sweetheart. You want to linger as long as possible." But just not long enough for the pee to get you.
You know, I am just a hop skip and a jump away from 'the city.' Next time you're there we'll meet up on market street and sing with a bum.
Posted by: Benji Coleman-Levy | October 07, 2007 at 11:05 PM
Oh that's funny! xoxo
Posted by: nicole | October 08, 2007 at 08:49 AM
Oh, man! What a crummy end to a wonderful evening. Kind of memorable though. Amazing.
Posted by: Ally | October 08, 2007 at 08:52 AM
hehehe....you're such a good storyteller, Janet!
Posted by: Lani | October 08, 2007 at 10:17 AM
I LOVE San Francisco, but unfortunately one of my memories involves a homeless person with a bunch of kittens and she was collecting money (she said) to feed her kittens. I wanted to grab up all those kittens and fly home with them. That was 2000. I gave her money though--hoping she would buy cat food. Sorry for my sad story on a Monday! Oh, but to lighten the mood, when I was in downtown Seattle 3 years ago, a homeless person threw rocks at me. He thought I was POINTING at him when, in fact, I was pointing out to my husband a huge flock of pigeons. He started pelting me with rocks!
Posted by: Lesli | October 08, 2007 at 01:08 PM
That's San Francisco for you! I guess now I am prepared if I go to grad school there;-)
Posted by: Sarah | October 08, 2007 at 02:01 PM
A little comforting note: no cute flats at Target. I already looked!
Posted by: Jennifer Berthiaume | October 08, 2007 at 06:27 PM
I re-read that sentence twice thinking "did she say pee?" - "oh wait maybe it was metaphorical" which quickly changed to "omg someone was ACTUALLY peeing!"
what is this world coming to?
Posted by: elysa | October 11, 2007 at 01:43 PM