I love San Francisco, I hate San Francisco

This city can be tough. But it also has it’s incredibly lovely moments. Sometimes you get both extremes in one day. Today was a good example.

I loved San Francisco today: I took a bus home from work with a Chinese girl in a neon green wig, cute kids singing camp songs and a guy dressed as Disco Stu. When I got home there was a 25 foot canoe in my apartment building lobby. Rob and I played a lovely game of kickball in the park and helped some German tourists find Alamo Square. What a wonderful city!

I hated San Francisco today: I waited in line behind an alcoholic woman buying her daily bottle of wine at Safeway at 8:15 am this morning. I missed the first bus to work, had to take the “sardine” bus and arrived late. I probably passed 23 homeless people on the streets. At kickball I found out that one of our kickball teammates was stabbed five times by a gang of thugs outside of his Russian Hill apartment. Luckily, he is recovering fine. What a terrible city.

This is probably the same quandary that most city dwellers face at one point or another. Am I crazy for still loving it? Is my relationship with urban life dysfunctional? Does it get better?