I should be writing about the mixed impressions of being here: the incredible eclectic hodge podge of multi-culties living within the city’s 7.2 mile radius, visiting former haunts and old friends and feeling the glib of a jammed social calendar within hours of landing, inhaling the vibe of funky vintage shop fashion, beaming over a hand crafted 10-foot high bicycle piloted down a public street by a teenage Mad Max type, the hideous face of pervasive homelessness and a burly bearded gentleman strutting downtown in his lace and pearl bordered white wedding dress.
However, circumstances prevail…
I received multiple messages my first morning in San Fran from the person back in HLC looking after my flat. I phone her. “Did you have anything of value in your apartment?” she asks.
We all know what that question meant.
And while the burglars were inside, the cat apparently ran away. Two hits in one. What a bargain. Burgled apartment and no cat. That definitely made an impact on sightseeing entertainment value yesterday.
So what in the hell is a person to do from THOUSANDS of miles away?? How does one assess what might have been taken? No damage, apparently, and I’m not worried about valuables since that was “seen to” prior to departure. But…???
Here’s the clincher: It went down in the passing hours between one friend moving out of the flat and another moving in. Chew on that one while I order a room service cocktail at 6 a.m.