We were just going into The City to see a matinee with all the other old folks, families with children, and school field trips from all over the smaller towns nearby. What a great asset it is to live in the country, but near the city to take advantage of all the cultural exhibits, museums, music, and theater productions.
I love living in a cluster of cow towns, chicken farms, redwood forests, and wineries, but The City is where to find the truly great entertainment. Well, of course, I would never even attempt to try to usurp the reputation of THE CITY which deserves to be capitalized out of sheer respect. New York is the undisputed CITY, but if you live in the Bay Area in California, San Francisco is The City.
According to historical definition, a city is a permanent urban settlement with a cathedral… a town has a merely church. The City (lower case) could be anywhere else in the world with a certain level of population, but seriously, this could only happen in San Francisco.
It was such a nice sunny day, and Husbo and I were looking forward to the stroll through the park in front of the civic center over to the theater district. The streets are teeming with people: workers building projects, homeless people, joggers, mothers with babies, lawyers, city workers, patrons of the arts, meth heads, old people, disabled people… all racially and culturally mixed as you would expect in Urbania.
Even though the signs say, “No Smoking,” on every street we see couples and groups of two or three people passing joints. Wow! Just like back in the day. You gotta love it. I take it all in. On our democratic path of least possible resistance, we have learned to tolerate many permutations of human behavior.
“I hate these fucking ugly old people!” a poor wretch spits out vituperatively to her boyfriend who can barely keep from nodding out. “These ugly fucking old people with their walkers and their wheel chairs…” She waits for some response from him. He squints up at her briefly like a cat sprawled out in a sunny window. “These ugly fucking old people!” This remark is particularly harsh as lots of old people are getting off the Day Tripper bus hobbling down the street to see the show.
Up ahead we see a parade. No, a protest. No, what is it? About fifty people are marching on city hall carrying handmade signs and passing out fliers. A little girl in a blue dress hands me a flyer as I look up to see NAKED PEOPLE! That’s right. Naked people, all marching, wagging, and sagging together. Oh my! Why me?
Seriously, this could only happen in San Francisco. “How delightful!” I say. “March on!” I encourage them as they pass. “What nice tans,” I remark. I am trying not to stare, but I figure if someone is walking along a main street naked, they’re kind of inviting me to look, don’t you think?
I take mental notes: They’re all wearing shoes and jewelry – interesting. The children among them are fully clothed, probably to ward off pervs, children are vulnerable, after all. Smart thinking. Cut and uncut – amusing. Big titties, little titties. Some fat, some skinny. Some tall, some short. A couple of guys are not shy about showing off their inadequacies. One guy in particular had nothing to be shy about, and he was sporting an attractive Prince Albert cock ring as well, so I guess you could say he was well-dressed?
When we are finally seated and waiting for the show to begin, Husbo leans over and says, “You know at first, I didn’t even notice they were naked.”
“I think you need new glasses,” I say smiling. But I know what he is talking about… and besides, if they get cold enough, they will put some clothes on. I love The City!
(First published 11/15/12)
