Crazytown

I'm back in the 415.

I got immediately immersed in San Francisco-ness on my shuttle ride from the Oaktown airport. My shuttle driver was (1) high, (2) an amateur web designer with a scheme to (3) sell hydrogen car conversion kit information or something like that, and was (IV) stark raving mad. I think that's the Bay Area quadruple threat right there. It was fairly terrifying, and I was fairly certain he was going to pull off the road and kill me (I was the only person on the shuttle, which is normally a good thing but in this case just added to the terror). He talked the entire time, every once and a while turning completely around and resting his hand on the front passenter armrest not three inches from my knee. Of course, I got to freak the crap out of him when he stopped the van and an until-then silent and hidden Satchel started barking for fear that I was going to leave him (his standard MO when the car stops). Naturally, the driver was only temporarily terrified, as unexpected noises from unknown sources, like say voices coming from his rearview mirror, were no doubt a common occurrence in his life.

Anyhow, we've played with dogs in Mission Dolores mark and spoken to their mulleted womyn owners, we've taken BART, which was free today due to 'spare the air', and we've set ourselves up with a car sharing service. My sublet looks like a motel, and Satchel's readjustment to being in an apartment is such that he's barking anytime anyone comes into one of the 25 units in the building as if they are strangers coming into his house. I was also excited to find that my front door is a mere 40 stairs from the street, which was quite fun with my luggage. But Satchel loves stairs and I will probably end up breaking my neck from him tugging me to go faster as we descend for his morning routine.

I'm off to enjoy some more sunshine and good food in the city. As it turns out, the 85 degree forecast was no joke, so I'm here for the good stuff!