On Thursday night while I was packing and watching Mean Girls I smiled. It wasn’t because I find the movie hilarious or because packing is that pleasurable. I simply smiled because the thought that crossed my mind at that moment was, ‘I’m going to San Francisco.’
San Francisco has been my happy place for the last four years. As a kid, I had no love for the city. After a camping trip to Lake Tahoe, my family spent the night at a motel in SF. When we awoke in the morning, we found the doors to our red van wide open. While we slept, thieves stole credit cards, my dad’s guitar, and other items we had taken camping. As a 7 year old kid, I wasn’t concerned about the missing credit cards. I secretly hoped that the thieves didn’t take my toys.
I didn’t return to SF until fall 2001. And that was when I fell in love with the city… and a little more. I was hooked on the city and a boy. Even though he was almost 500 miles away, I didn’t mind making the trip to see him. The city just made me happy, and it was more than just the guy. I know, because even after we broke up, the city still made me feel different. And it was a good different. All the drama from LA was out of my mind and the air felt cleaner. I like that there is so much in the city I still need to explore, but also enough that is familiar to me.
I tend to romanticize the city, but it’s still a nice place to be, too bad it was only for the weekend and for UCSA business.