Last week I had the pleasure of seeing the stage production (a musical, no less) of Armistead Maupin's classic Tales of the City at the American Conservatory Theater, and it was a delightfully entertaining time. I even got party favors with my program, including a condom, but I'm not sure that's standard.
I read the first three books of the Tales series back in 1993 or 1994, before I had any intention of moving to San Francisco. By mid-1996, however, I had decided to take on the City by the Bay. I can't remember exactly what I expected... probably something along the lines of a late-'90's intelligentsia-laden Bohemia, complete with dinner parties populated by Doc Marten-donning inter-racial couples sipping Chardonnay and Cab while discussing elaborate plans to save the world. Or something like that. Whatever it was I specifically had in mind, San Francisco isn't really anything like I expected. After all, I had outgrown my own Doc Marten phase and was shopping almost exclusively for Steve Madden platform heels by mid-1997 (I eventually would outgrow those, as well). It's been a lovely ride, though, and as I much as I love Hawaii and occasionally imagine returning to Southern California, where I grew up, I feel lucky to live here.
So the Tales of the City musical inspired me to wander around after work on this rare warm and sunny afternoon (one thing San Francisco doesn't do well is weather; it's usually foggy and cold in the late spring and through the summer) and snap some photos.
Not exactly the America's Cup (that's not for a couple of years), but sailing was not a bad idea this Wednesday afternoon. And most people probably still were stuck in offices while these people enjoyed the Bay.
This is my favorite building in North Beach.
Several houses in my neighborhood; none of them mine.
The evening sunlight streaming through rose curtains in my own humble abode.
After most of these pictures were taken, I took in a happy hour at the Burritt Room organized by my friend Andre. While sipping a Critical Mass cocktail I just may have persuaded a guitar and saxophone playing gentleman to join Sober Nixon. Maybe. I can't say whether he was truly interested or simply being polite, but time will tell.
You just never know what might happen, as we San Francisco denizens write our own tales of the City.