2005-04-19

Last Thursday as I lurched half drunkenly through the mission, on my way home, I remembered how much I love this city at 10:30 on a weeknight. It�s truly the best time in the world to leave ones heart.

when I got home, rather than take a Dr Tells proscribed early morning hangover preventative of a quart of Smart Water and two aspirin, I instead threw on my old SFSU Swimming sweatshirt, track pants and an ancient pair of Adidas, picked up my iPod and went running. This wasn�t how I usually ended my debaucherous evenings with friends.

And, I think, I left my soul to this city. My random served up the Jacque Lu Cont�s Thin White Duke remix of The Killers� Mr Brightsides. And I was lost. The BPM matched my stride, the pseudo Beethoven in the song matched my mood, and suddenly I was transported out of myself and into the city. I was planning on taking my usual jog up to Buena Vista to see the Golden Gate but instead headed downtown to the deserted financial district, taking the straight shot down Market, past the bums sleeping for the night. I was then almost transported in time. Back to when I first arrived in this city, anxious to make it not only on my own, but on my own terms. Visiting a city is such a different way to experience it than living in it, and I�ve had the time and the luxury to immerse myself in this fantastic place.

Normally, I�m all for a cab ride home, a couple glasses of water, and then pass out on top of the duvet until the early morning chill and the alarm wake me to the sounds of the stirring city. But tonight, it was different. This city at night has a different personality. It�s more beautiful; there is more to admire. It�s just more. Which, I didn�t think was possible. I ran down Market, ignoring the homeless persons camped out, past the library and city hall with its lit dome gleaming under the spotlights. Some event was letting out at the Orpheum and crowds of happy people were loitering about the street, happy and flushed with the camaraderie that comes with a great concert. It also explained the crowds at the Carl�s Jr, attracting street hucksters sensing easy marks. But a block later and I was again alone. Normally, at night I like to run up to Buena Vista and get a night view of the Golden Gate. And usually a few men, cruising the dark paths. The view is worth it however. But tonight I didn�t want distance. I wanted to be close to the monument that defined this city in postcards, pictures, and people�s minds, and so I turned left at the Fischer building and headed down along the wharf, which was even more deserted. I was alone with my thoughts and my playlist, my iPod throwing songs at me to keep me moving and introspective. Blink 182�s Anthem, Jimmy Eat World�s Work, Missy Elliot�s Work It. The view, though obscured by some storm, was still what I wanted it to be. I love how the Golden Gate Bridge has a presence, how it seems so much larger than it actually is, as if it has a soul. The art deco details really hit at night, with the lighting they use, and since it was late there were very few cars moving along its span. The red coating was a nice contrast to the surrounding black, with the more distant twinkling of lights in Sausalito and Tiburon tiny diamonds in homage to the ruby bridge. Heading back, I grabbed another Smart Water at the Marina Safeway and then ran home up Filmore, through JapanTown and the funky Federal Housing that despite looking nothing like it, has me think of the Brady Bunch house, and back to my own special borough of this city. When I reached the steps to my building, I paused to fish for my key that I had oh so very cleverly hidden in my sock. The fatigue rolled over me like thunder at night, omnipresent and close. I could just stand there, inhaling and exhaling the good cool air, and think about how fast I�d run and how far I�ve come.

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