If you had asked me a few days earlier I would’ve told you that I had no intention of flying to San Francisco. There I was, sitting in first class, despite having spent only $300 for round trip tickets, enjoying the perks of travelling with a flight attendant and her sister. Sometime things just work out. Sort of.
Generally I would tell this kind of story. I alluded to it a lot in my review of Eagle Rider Motorcycle Rentals:
I would only be in San Francisco for about 48 hours. In that time I saw neither the Golden Gate Bridge, nor the Haight-Ashbury ‘hood, and I didn’t dip my toes in the ocean either.
I drank with flight attendants in an old brothel turned speak easy turned legally licensed bar. We drank with and hit the road with a local. I exchanged flirtations with another man’s date. I gave hell to one of my dearest and kindest friends, only to make up with her.
I fell in love (twice), and somewhere in between all of my misadventures I had been lucky enough to ride a hog in one of the most beautiful cities in North America.
(It’s been almost 8 months since I wrote that, and in part thanks to all of the typos, I have little idea what I was talking about. Sorry.)
The reality is that something happened in San Francisco. Maybe I learned to appreciate siblings. Maybe I learned to appreciate children. Maybe I discovered that you can know a woman for over a decade, and still never really know her. Maybe that trip taught me just how complex and even fragile the strongest of women can be. Just like the strongest of men. But I’m not the strongest of men, I’m just me. Maybe I grew the fuck up, if only just a little. Maybe I’m getting too old to tell stories.
I still don’t want to talk about San Francisco. At times I outright regretted ever going while I was there, but I’m glad I went. The city is beautiful. Whatever it is that I learned, whatever it is that changed, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I did learn a lot. It’s been two months. I’m still processing it.
You should really go to San Francisco. You’ll be glad you went, too. Trust me. You’re my reader, I wouldn’t lie to you.
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.