So we had our first evening in San Francisco. The city sky line was so shallow to me and little. The tallest building paled in comparison to NY's smallest.
The shops we pass are darling and enticing. The clothing thrift store has a giant neon sign that makes me giggle: Out of the Closet. I read it twice before I remember we are in SF and it's funny. How fun! Way more fun than passing a stone building with the engraved markings: THE FEDERAL RESERVE.
We find parking on the street easily. (?) (!) Head towards a greasy, dirty burger joint called Flippers. We see several males loitering out front in tight leather pants, some funky hats, and fashion that won't hit the streets for at least a year. The guys want to hesitate, thinking it's a niche crowd desired for burger serving, yet we proceed. Turns out Flippers is next to a gay bar. Awesome! Can't seem to talk them into going in and getting a soda with me. Maybe next time.
I order my California burger (in California!) and smirk at myself. It's strange to see a menu where any item can be replaced with tofu. It's exciting to be sitting inside an establishment with people who wear Pumas, make an attempt to dress in something different, and no children can be found. Boys with the long swoopy indie hair-dos. Girls who don't shave. People who are different, not suburban people. I miss these kind of people.
I glance at the door and a transvestite walks in with a sundress on and a lot of red lipstick. We lock eyes and I smile in delight. It smiles back. I settle in my seat and decide this is a fun evening already.
The new friends with us are funny and clever and tell us about the city. We share stories and it feels like we have known them for years.
I grab a 6 pack of bottled Strawberry Crush from an earthy grocery store that looks more like a designer warehouse and we head over to the party. Wondering where that happy medium is between the city and the burbs.
