Concepts in the Paradox

I like how I can take a girl on the bus during a date, and it is considered superior to picking her up in my car or calling a cab. Also, 38-Geary is like paying for a $1.50 movie, but more interactive.

I like how I can say “meet me at 24th street Bart” and that is also considered normal. Meeting at train stations is my idea romantic.

Anyway, meet me at Powell station near the cable car turn-around.

Friday was Critical Mass, and I decided that it would be an excellent time to try out my bike on a long bike ride. Upon showing up to the site at 6pm, I found over a thousand cyclists, with a constant stream of of new arrivals from Market St.

I don’t remember the exact route that we went, but at some point I took a look back onto Market St, and there was nothing but a sea of bikes. Maybe 8-9 blocks worth of all sorts of people on all sorts of bikes. Some people brought their kids along, others were riding fully custom bikes, and some were just using their regular commuter bikes.

The head of the pack chose the direction we should go, and people further in the back of the group would yell forward what direction we should go next, or if we needed to slow down to prevent the mass from getting too thin. We went up, down, and around: going through the Haight twice. That’s when trouble started brewing.

Most motorists and pedestrians waved, cheered, and even stopped cyclists to ask what this mass cyclist event was about. Even stuck in a flood of bikes for 15 minutes, people in cars would smile and wave. Cabbies seemed to take it the hardest though. I saw an incident where a female cabbie was upset a cyclist was block her, as some people in the mass would do to prevent cars jumping in at intersections. The cabbie got out, tried to remove the bike blocking her, and the other cyclists would circle around to watch what happened next. In this case, the cabbie sulked and got back into her cab.

Around Haight street was a different story. An irate pedestrian pulled a random cyclist from his bike, causing him to careen into the side of a parked car. This guy looked exactly like Fabio, a tall, built, and long blonde haired man, dressed like he was going out for a night on the town. Per usual, cyclists swarmed around him to see what the fuss was about. With over 300 people surrounding him, this muscle-bound man declared what the cyclists were doing was “stupid”, “no one cares” and we were only there to cause trouble. Sure, some people were, but the vast majority were enjoying their urban disobedience against cars.

The man yanked off his button-up shirt, with buttons flying every which way, just like in the movies. Underneath you could see that he went to the gym every minute of his life, and he wasn’t one you’d want to try to fight. He continued to created a fuss, tried to get people to dismount their bikes and fight, but luckily an SFPD bike cop came by and told Fabio to chill, to which he stalked off, grumping all the way home.

Our ride took us all the way up to Hyde and Lombard, famous for being the most twisted hill in San Francisco:

We also went both directions through the Broadway tunnel, yelling and screaming as we passed through. I have to admit that I was taken in by the whole scene, and found myself also screaming; joining the protest against the cars that dominate the city. We then headed through the Stockton tunnel, which after I decided to retire. The whole ride was three hours for me, and there was still a group of 200 or so headed back toward market.

I think that Critical Mass is an important monthly demonstration in the city, and for anyone from the outside world looking in. People take their cars for granted, and ignore the many social and economic problems they create. Oil prices are high, people are out of shape, and transit is almost non-existent or non-functioning. I hold CM has an example of people doing something, instead of complaining.

I’ll be there next month.

Nathan and I made it to the DNA at about 11:30, and started in on the agenda I published yesterday. There was some drinking, and I went past my 3-drink limit, though I only had one extra. The wine I had tasted sour, so I figured I deserved an extra vodka and coke.

Around midnight, The Spores came on stage. I didn’t even bother looking up the band that was playing in my haste doing the chores of Sunday on Saturday so I could stay up all night. However, I was so impressed with the band, complete with puppet show, that after her performance on stage I tracked her down outside, said what a great performace she gave, and bought a CD. I almost never buy CDs — what a waste of money, but I’m glad I did. She gave me the ever so rare “good person” vibe, so I hope she succeeds in her career.

We stayed at the DNA until about 3am, dancing the night away, and gawking at women, then made a stop at the famed Lucky Penny up the street from me, and crashed about 4:30am.

A walking tour

It was another nice day in San Francisco Sunday, so I gave Nathan the walking tour of the Mission, the alleys of SoMA, Russian Hill, Nob Hill, the TL, and North Beach: you know, for compare and contrast. I was able to make a couple of my apartment hunting stops: One place was on 19th and Valencia above a store. It had a really strange layout, with various small rooms all over the unit, but was otherwise alright. I didn’t fall in love, but if I had to live in the heart of Valencia, it would be a good deal at $1980/mo. The other unit I stopped by was on Grace and Mission: I actually feared for my life going down that alley. It was littered with used needles, qtips (!), and shattered window glass. The landlord didn’t pick up his phone, so I didn’t take a look inside, but I don’t think I’d like to be in that alley after about 10pm on any given night.

I still haven’t heard back about the place I liked on Dolores. Perhaps I’ll get a yes or no tomorrow?

Every Sunday, assuming the weather is clear, I take a bus ride to a random San Franscisco neighborhood and take a long walk around. Today I got on the 24 Divisadero and headed south toward Bayview, getting off at 24th street and Castro. From there I choose the steepest hill and went up, down, around, and even managed to slip down a steep hill and get myself covered in mud.

About halfway through my journey, I came across this gem:

Someone else seems to have problems with people urinating near their doorstep. If you click on the image, you can see some sort of green substance growing on the sidewalk. I don’t even want to think of what might cause that.

I think that my third place in the city will be in Noe Valley. It is really a nice area, with good transit too. The top of the hill had really breath-taking views, though the sound of the 101 echos all the way up to the hills, which is sort of upsetting. You can view the area I walked around in by visiting my Noe Valley photo stream.

I’m still looking for my Duboce Triangle or Valencia dream apartment at the moment, since I have only 115 more days left on my lease, and I’m itching to move closer to Bart as well as some sort of cultural center.