Walking in Haight Ashbury
Walking in Haight Ashbury
I went for a walk in the Haight the other day. It was alllllright. The sun was out. I had headphones screwed into my ears. I was a bit lost in that breeze-on-skin/tunes-flowing feeling, So I’m thinking about how my dad hitched out here to San Francisco in his early twenties from New York, how he was going to get a job making leather sandals and such. Then he ran out of money, hitched back, signed up for art school, met my mama.
The Haight is kinda sleepy really. I guess it’s a Tuesday during that post-lunch slump (aaaahhh freelancing.) So I’m walking along, taking in the sites. It seems like there’s always something coming and going along the storefronts: high-end sneakers, joke socks, sex toys. I pass yet another gaggle of young people, traveler sorts, grungy, tie-dye clad, no lie. All the sudden it feels like something fell on the back of my head, I look around vigilantly, but it’s such a light touch, maybe it was nothing, so I wander further in reverie. A couple blocks on I happen upon a vintage shop. Oh, look at these beautiful brown leather boots! Are they my size? I crouch down to try them on, and something falls from the back of my neck. I kid you not, it’s a tissue full of weed that has now spilled all over the floor. In rushed fear I scoop it up, shove it in my pocket and continue walking through Haight Ashbury…
Walking in Haight Ashbury