July2
I accepted reality with a heavy sigh as the plane came to a halt and the Captain spoke those three dreaded words: “Welcome to Detroit.” As I walked reluctantly with a slight limp–my shoes weren’t made for walkin’–, I sifted through my pockets and pulled out my SF MUNI 7-Day Passport, with all its wear and tear. I looked at it quizzically. Was it all just a dream?
Here I sit, back home in Michigan, in my old familiar room, in front of my old familiar monitor, in my chair in which I’ve wasted so many hours, and will continue to waste so many more. I don’t want this comfort. I don’t want to feel safe. I want to be forced alive at gun point. I want to be back in a sprawling unfamiliar city, forced to go at it alone, forced to rely on nobody but myself. I want to be as far away as possible from everything familiar to me.
There is a genuine peace and love felt in San Francisco. It’s mind-boggling, especially to someone from such a diverse yet divided area such as Detroit, to see so many different cultures, classes, lifestyles, and colors come together in one bright, beautiful city and live in harmony. Perhaps it’s because I only caught a glimpse of it as an outsider, or perhaps it was because I was really stoned, but the human connection there is like nothing else I’ve experienced.
I imagined myself coming home and listing my successes and failures of the trip. When going through the list in my head, I came across one glaring oversight: I’ve not made any meaningful human contact. I was forced to either live with that failure (as I have so many times before), or to do something to change it. I settled in once again in Golden Gate Park for my final day in the city. The sky was completely clear in the park for the first time since I’ve been there. The kickball teams were playing, the drum circle was in full effect, and people all around were soaking up the beautiful day. After spending the next few hours fully experiencing the world around me, I decided it was time to right my wrong and meet some people. I was ready to leave the park, and in preparation for my flight, had to rid myself of a few things. I found a group of people around my age a little bit up the hill who would clearly benefit from my gift. I sat down and said my hellos, and set down my goods. The gladly obliged and gave me a gift in exchange. We made a little small talk and shortly thereafter, we all parted ways. They wished me good luck on my journey.
I left the park with a smile, though I knew I would miss it. I went to the McDonald’s across from the park on Haight and as I was walking out, a few of the people from the group were walking in. I held the door for them then walked down the stairs. As I was walking down the street, one of the guys stepped back out of the door and called out to me, “Have a safe flight.” This simple gesture sealed it for me: San Francisco is where I belong. If I can’t fit in there, I’ll never fit in anywhere.
Goodbye for now, San Francisco. I’ll be home again soon.