While I was in San Francisco, I was inspired by something quite innocent . . . Kids.
There were lots of toddlers and strollers - in Castro no less. Some were being strolled by two adults or one adult of the same or either gender.
At one point, I overheard one girl, no more than 3 or 4 years old, point and ask her dad about the display in a door window. It was a rainbow flag.
"Those are the colors of our neighborhood." he answered.
My inspiration was complete.
Kids should be able to see the rainbow flag displayed and be comforted. Its display means: the person, store, driver . . . neighborhood that displays this flag, has a zero tolerance for bullying, harassment and hate.
They are accepted. They are loved. They are not alone.
And now, "Love is Power" Doodle Diva, has got their back too.
San Francisco was an education in reality versus perception.
Perception: oodles upon oodles upon oodles of young, hot, fashionable gay male eye candy walking hand in hand with their boyfriend flashing million watt smiles.
Reality: I didn't see a lot of men walking hand in hand. In fact, what stood out to me was the number of straight couples, straight families, lesbians, and apparently a new phenomenon - very effeminate STRAIGHT men.
The very first thing that I noticed about San Franciso? - super duper chilly!!!
Oh my GAH!
I took heed from my hosts and research and erred on too many layers versus too few. That was hands down the smartest thing I did for my San Francisco trip!
Otherwise, I would have been miserable. It's not just chilly. By late afternoon it's flat out cold.
The guys were normal. I guess I was expecting these extremely crafted by da Vinci types as the norm. Like physical perfection en masse.
No.
The guys were normal - fashionable . . . But no supermodel norm.
I guess I figured it's California and they're all about beautiful bods, speedos, convertibles and oozing hotness 24-7.
Nope. They were all shapes and sizes. Though skinny gay younguns seemed to be everywhere.
Lots of Hispanics, Latinos and Asians. I liked that. Very melting pot vibe.
Lots of art. Lots of coffee shops. Lots of restaurants.
Oh my gah!
The restaurants.
Seriously. It's impossible to have a bad meal. And the food all tastes like it was fresh from the garden or farm a few hours ago.
It was like really tasting food for the first time. It's an other world experience. It's like your tastes buds have been sleepwalking all this time and then KAPOW!!!
Fireworks.
If for nothing else, visit for the restaurants.
Then there's the coffee.
Coffee snobs that diss Starbucks have always made me roll my eyes. Whatever. Starbucks always tastes better than or the same as the coffee houses I've been
to.
My host refused to drink Starbucks. He practically hissed when I asked. I rolled my eyes.
. . . Only to have them stop in mid roll after one gulp of the coffee from a coffee house on the same block as my hosts'. Oh my. I stand utterly corrected.
There's a robustness, a boldness, a kick, an organicness, an authenticness and a richness unlike any Starbucks brew I've ever had. I had three or four different coffees from three or four different coffeehouses. They all made Starbucks seem so . . . plastic.
Even the sweet potato fries at one diner were like a lesson in "how it's supposed to taste - 101". Light but crispy - (they should have forbade ketchup!)
Speaking of food . . . I finally got my wings and salad delivered and devoured here in Chicago. So I'm off to bed.
Stay tuned. More about my San Francisco visit to come . . .
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
What a haenus day!
I was already blue. Vacay was over and I was sitting firmly on two of the H.A.L.T. 's, ( hungry, angry, lonely, tired).
And I discovered something tonight. It's the reason I'm blogging from a hotel room I can't afford in Chicago instead of my own abode.
Gate changes.
Apparently, a plane can change gates at will. It can change gates a couple of times. You can be sitting for three hours for your flight that has already had one change . . .
And it change again.
And somehow, you, (well I), never get a memo, a tap on the shoulder, a head's up, a muffled loudspeaker announcement, advising of this added change.
I had a weird feeling. Something was amiss. I grabbed my boarding pass and felt the blood rush from my head to my tiptoes.
My flight should have been airborne 25 minutes ago!
Surely some mistake. I was sitting right there in front of the attendants.
But the attendant confirmed my flight was gone. I would need to reschedule.
The sheer exquisiteness of my panic, horror, frustration, anger, bewilderment . . . I was a big pile of pitiful.
I picked up on external cues from other passengers. Getting rude and angry would do me zero favors. So I lost it. . . Internally.
Four attendants, one rebooking, three phone calls, two Priceline bids, and one wrong shuttle bus later, I find myself here, in a hotel I can't really afford, starving.
Did I mention I'm still dressed in San Francisco layers in Chicago's 80-90 degree heat? My outfit alone SCREAMS "I'm a clueless tourist. Please take advantage of me."
Did I also mention the earliest flight is tomorrow afternoon?
And it's a two hour flight.
And I'm supposed to be at work. . .
. . . at 8:30am.
I'm going to eat and hit the sack and pray tomorrow proves to be more favorable.
I had a glorious time in San Francisco. I have volumes of blog entries to share.
And of course, not every ounce of this day was haenus. I was even able to complete another diva . . .THREE divas over vacation. The inspirations were abundant.
I just had to whine. I now have the presence of mind to realize without the crappy days, the divalicious days wouldn't be nearly as special. . .
. . . Damn it!!!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
