Like every other time I've ever arrived in San Francisco I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I understand why people came here in the 60's and I think that there are still remnants of the spirit of Jack Kerouac and Neil Cassady summoning people in and onward. As usual the sun was shining as I retrieved my luggage and made my way onto the BART. There was a plethora of empty cushioned seats and I sat in one of them next to a family that must have been flying in for Thanksgiving. We rolled out of the SFO station and I started watching the stops go by me. I took a deep breath in and exhaled as we passed an area closer to the ocean with high hills piled with San Francisco style colored houses. The hills were all covered in patches of pinks, baby blues, yellows and whites as the sun lit up the old victorians. The familiarity of them was comforting.

I was on my way to Embarcadero to get my keys from mama so I could let myself in since she was at work. I exited the train station and came up to the city. It was great seeing the place after not being here for 5 years. I tried to shuffle my suitcase around the few people on the sidewalk as I was balancing talking on my cell phone at the same time. Mama told me where to meet her. "So no Santa Fe huh?" "No" I said. I got her keys, got on the bus and made my way toward Haight st. I had a minute to drop off my bags and go to my first job interview.

I walked into the restaurant where I was told I was to meet with a guy named Dave. I saw a man in a white shirt setting up a table outside. "Thats not too bad" I thought to myself. The uniform looked ok and he was kind of cute. But I hadn't prepared myself for what I was about to see as I walked in. Waiters in pseudo 14th century style Chinese clothing. Gasp. Would I have to wear this if I got hired?? Maybe that was just the bus boy? I had seen a guy in a white shirt. It turns out that everyone was wearing the dreadful ancient Chinese garb. The guy in the shirt was the manager. I felt like this would be like some sort of working at Chuck-E-Cheese style humiliation. Like a place that you would NEVER admit to working at and you sure as hell weren't going to have any of your friends come in to eat, never mind pick anyone one up or get a date out of this place. They told me to fill out the application while I waited for Dave. "Oh god, an application" I thought. I always hated filling out applications for places that you were handing your resume to. The questions were always ridiculous. Things like "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"  "I hope to hell not waiting tables at your crappy restaurant dressed in ancient Chinese garb because then I may want to shoot myself."  Man I always wished I had the guts to write something like that. One of the questions was"What is your favorite wine and why?" Ok, I wrote the name of my favorite wine and said "because its awesome."


I didn't take the job at that restaurant. They didn't exactly call me either. But man, I love San Francisco.

. .