After seeing it, I forget what I had previously imagined San Francisco would be like. Everyone eating Rice-A-Roni while riding cable cars or something. Halfway true. Only tourists ride cable cars, and the Rice-A-Roni boxes were gathering dust in Julie’s kitchen cabinet. The up side is this: San Francisco is one of the coolest cities I’ve ever encountered. Ocean and bay on three sides, gorgeous parks and green space, hardly a scrap of trash to be found. Eclectic architecture and culture to boot. The diverse mix of restaurants available allow you to sample every worldly cuisine from Spanish paella to Japanese sushi in one block. And I’m not talking Taco Bell and Fazoli’s type joints either. These are independently owned eateries with individual style and appeal.

One morning on the prowl for wi-fi, we found Alamo Square Cafe. Tasty bagels with cream cheese, smoothies and lattes. The walls were hung with funky artwork and the whole place exuded a hip neighborhood feel. After finishing our drinks, we walked to the nearby Alamo Square where we found the Victorian houses of Postcard Row used in the opening montage of Full House. If you have a keen memory, you’ll remember these houses from the shot of the Tanner family having a picnic in the park.

And oh, the hills! In our Hyundai Accent rental, Kirk, Kelly and I drove up, up, up to what was pretty much the top of the city. Finally, we stopped at an intersection (leaning backwards, with the nose of the car pointed up at a 40 degree angle.) We saw sky. Looking over the dashboard straight across the intersection, there was nothing but blue ocean water far in the distance. Leaning back in our seats, it felt like we were on an amusement park ride. If you tripped while walking down the sidewalk, you’d fall and wouldn’t stop rolling until you fell right into the bay. “Good thing this isn’t a stick shift,” observed Kirk.

The light turned green. Kirk accelerated up the hill, and we leveled out through the intersection. Slowly we approached the other side. No pavement could be seen. Just the hood of the car, and treetops descending below. How steep was this hill? The car started pointing downward. Where was the pavement? Were we going to freefall?!

“AAHHHH!!” All six hands up, roller coaster-style. Yep, Kirk let go of the wheel for a second. Riding all the way to the bottom, we were all giggly with excitement.

San Francisco was full of other delights as well. On Fisherman’s Wharf, a kind of carnival strip in the downtown area, we ate a lunch of fresh cod and scallops. At the Ghirardelli Ice Cream & Chocolate Shop, we indulged in a nine dollar sundae with two types of ice cream, caramel and hot fudge.

Periodically the sun managed to send a few rays our way. More often though, the rain forced us to run for cover. One unsuspecting building included the Academy of Sciences. Go figure, they have free admission every third Wednesday of each month. Guess what day it was? You bet. Score! They had a fantastic aquarium and pretty sweet rainforest exhibit. One of their coolest pets was the albino alligator.

One last thing had to be done. I didn’t think it was quite necessary, I mean, walking a quarter of the way out would have suited me just fine. Kelly insisted we walk the entire length of the Golden Gate bridge. I protested. She commanded.

It was night. It was eerie. It was a long fall to the water.

So we set out. Kirk’s 7D was around my neck, and the tripod over my shoulder. It was just Kelly and I. Kirk didn’t have a jacket and said he rather not freeze to death. Fair enough. We had to walk down some stairs and underneath the cars rumbling above to get to the pedestrian walkway on the far side. The view was luminescent. The city across the water glowed a soft gold through the moisture that hung in the air.

The wind picked up as we moved farther and farther from solid ground. We reached the first giant pillar. Kelly got a laugh out of the “if you jump, consequences could be tragic” plaques. Yeah, no kidding. Thanks for the dose of reality. The dark clouds moved fast overhead. “You sure we really need to walk all the way across?” I yelled to my sister through the howl. “We can’t turn back now!” she delighted. Sure we can, it’s not like its a one way sidewalk.

We reached the middle. The bridge shook, and we had to hang onto our clothes. All of a sudden… splat! Right on my forehead. I looked up. Raindrops. “Kelly? I think we need to start moving.” We walked faster. Splat. Splat. The wind started to pick up even more. Splat Splat Splash. “Kelly, RUN!!!” I shoved the camera into my jacket and ran through the whipping rain. Hurricane gusts lashed across the bridge. The second pillar was near… behind it we could take cover if we could make it. “Ahh, run run RUN!”

We skirted round the backside of the pillar and flattened ourselves against it. Looked up. Sheets and sheets poured down from the sky. “That could have been worse.” Yeah. “We could have fallen off!” We laughed and were happy with our good fortune: We were still on the bridge.

Kirk, worrying and wondering what the heck happened to us, waited on the other side with the car. He had driven across and actually saw us walking somewhere near the middle when the rain started. Besides being a bit wet, we were no worse for the wear. Even the camera was just fine.

~ ~ ~

I would like to send hearty thanks to Julie Ann Blumreiter. Contrary to what she thinks, she was a most courteous and thoughtful host! Thank you Julie, so very much for being our “gentle guide” and of course, for the box of Rice-a-Roni. ☼

Right now, I’m looking at a quote-of-the-day blackboad at Charmers Cafe. Today’s quote, written in orange chalk is: “Human beings have an inalienable right to invent themselves; when that right is pre-empted it is called brain-washing.” – Germaine Greer

Seating is usually sparse, as lots of Loyola students frequent the place, getting their study on. I ordered a latte, found a corner table, and set up shop. Laptop, external hard drive, mouse, and book. Outside winter lay bleak and dull. Inside a hotbed of conversation flourished, impassioned voices intermixed and expanded into all corners of the room.

Then, someone stood up in my peripheral vision.

It was some random guy. He turned and asked a girl, “Excuse me, could you keep an eye on my computer for me?” He was in need of a bathroom break.
“Sure,” she replied.

This gets me thinking.

There are about 20 of us all in this place. Out of all of them, this guy picks this particular girl to trust and keep his computer safe. (For maybe five minutes tops, but regardless.) She was sitting kitty-corner to him, reading a book. This guy has no idea who this girl is. Not her name, age, address… credit history, criminal record… if she’s a university student or an illegal immigrant. Or if she’s just been diagnosed by a licensed psychiatrist as a kleptomaniac . She’s as random as any other person in this coffee house. Why is she any less capable of nabbing his MacBook Air than anyone else?

If he only knew that I passionately covet the fantastically thin, sleek, light-as-a-feather Air, he probably wouldn’t have asked me. The girl he asked, was in fact, yours truly.

So why do people do this – hand out blind trust like Halloween candy? Why would someone trust one complete stranger to protect valuables from other complete strangers?

Personally, I’ve done this a handful of times, but after mulling over the logic of this practice, I’ve given it up. Instead, I trust the mass as a whole. No need to ask any specific person in general. When sitting for a while at a place like a coffee shop, you develop an unspoken bond with the people you sit next to. They know you because you tripped over their chair leg and apologized profusely. You know how they cough after choking on a biscotti. You said “No problem, help yourself!” when another person showed up late, needing the extra chair from your table. The temporary bond created between you and the other coffee lovers is hopefully strong enough that if you step away from your ‘spot’ for a moment, they won’t up and steal your stuff, and if anyone else shows up with that intention, they would at least offer up, “Hey, um, I think that belongs to that girl who’s in the restroom.”