Having two children and a husband who travels frequently, I don’t get out much. The other day, I looked at where I was and what I was doing and had a complete conniption. I turned to the woman next to me and demanded, “When and how did I turn into a f*cking soccer mom?!” She may have laughed weakly before changing the subject to PTA memos, or box top collections, or some other topic to fuel my identity crisis. Thank god one of the soccer dads started bringing comfortable chairs and adult beverages to practice. That has really made my descent into personal hell more tolerable.
In light of this realization, I have been making a concerted effort to get out into the wide world once in a while. A few days ago, that brought me to the Tenderloin. There are definitely a few things to be learned from the seedy parts of San Francisco.
1. Do not tell a gigantic, inebriated man that his Rottweiler is cute.
Though I’ve always assumed that, luckily I didn’t have to be the one to test the theory out. I did have to cross the street, however. What a ruckus.
2. The Tenderloin is a good place to be invisible.
I saw a man hobbling horribly on a crutch suddenly tuck it under his arm and ride off on a bicycle. No one batted an eye. If that sort of behavior passes under the radar, I imagine no one would notice if you fixed your bra-strap, or took care of that annoying crusty bit flapping around your left nostril. Hell, you could have a whole garden variety melt-down there, and you’d blend right in. It’s cheaper than therapy.
3. Fancy shmancy organic-type Whole Paycheck markets are just as ridiculously expensive in economically under-resourced parts of town.
While I am thankful to find something besides del Taco for my snack emergencies, how do these places stay in business? Where are the tasty food trucks? The tamale lady? Happy hour? That’s right. Not here. Might be time to head to Tu Lan. Definitely don’t use the bathroom, but the food is tasty and cheap, and if I remember correctly, Julia Child used to slum it here when she wasn’t partying in her limo. I’ve heard some stories.
4. Seedy parts of town foster creativity.
I saw the most pathetically amusing and/or revolting painting of my entire life hanging in a place of prominence in a loin-y gallery. Imagine a tiny, cluttered venue–art crammed into every cranny–devoting an entire wall to one enormous canvas. Mostly it is a giant color field of oil paint, with a shit-brown lump at the bottom, and a little white unicorn in the the center. I think the unicorn was crying; I might have made that part up, though. At the top, in swirly, girly hand lettering, it says: “I’ll never find true love…” followed by a very melancholic curlicue. That thing is burned on my retinas. It was awesome. I dare you to find something like that at 49 Geary.
5. In dire times, the first thing to go are your dreams for the future.
For some reason, I decided it would be cool to look at people’s old funky stuff. I meandered into some pawn shops. Have you noticed? All of the pawn shops are clustered around the courthouse. I had never thought about that before. And guess what people hock to get out of jail? Musical instruments and engagement rings. Almost exclusively. It is deeply depressing. Why not get rid of…I don’t know…some technological gadget? A Blackberry? The wii? Or a TV? Why not guns? Get rid of that thing! It didn’t help you out this time, did it? And where you’re going, they’ll probably take it away at check-in. But no. Love and music.
I suppose there are a lot of other lessons to be learned out there, but right now, I need to get some healthy snacks together for practice today. And a big jug of wine.
Bad Parenting 101 