A Fixed Point of Reference
I was in San Francisco last week, my first trip in quite a while, and flew in late at night (well, it was only 11:00 their time, but felt like the middle of the night to me anyway).
I'm in the cab, struggling between the urge to fall asleep and the urge to dive under the seat cushion for cover (my driver was a little, lets say, aggressive in his motoring style). So, I'm looking around, trying to get my bearings, trying to get a sense of this city I've never been to - when all of sudden I catch a sight that makes me feel comforted and at home. Like the architectural equivalent of a big hug. Ah, I said, now I'm in San Francisco.
Golden Gate bridge? Nope.
A trolley car? Hardly.
Actually it was this:
Yup. Candlestick Park. Now that says San Francisco to me.
And ultimately, how sad is that?!?
I'm in the cab, struggling between the urge to fall asleep and the urge to dive under the seat cushion for cover (my driver was a little, lets say, aggressive in his motoring style). So, I'm looking around, trying to get my bearings, trying to get a sense of this city I've never been to - when all of sudden I catch a sight that makes me feel comforted and at home. Like the architectural equivalent of a big hug. Ah, I said, now I'm in San Francisco.
Golden Gate bridge? Nope.
A trolley car? Hardly.
Actually it was this:
And ultimately, how sad is that?!?
posted by Jen @ 5:09 p.m.
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