Saturday, December 18, 2004

Fine Day

Went around town today(saturday) sending off and picking up packages, and it afforded me a nice little ramble through the north side of hunters point, east side of potrero. I'm not certain why I find industrial wastelands so attractive -- perhaps that it shows the natural side of industry; that like everything else it decays (in a semi-related note there is an excellent article in this month's Harpers about Rust Nostalgia). It WAS another glorious sunny fall day, so just the act of riding was nice. Or maybe that the streets are always so empty there, like no where else in the city during the daytime.

The day had gotten off to an interesting start when i wandered out into the backyard and scared a hawk off. He'd been picking at a recently flying pigeon in the great big lumpy pine tree that dominates are backyard. The hawk flapped off towards dolores park carrying his prey with him leaving a pile of feathers underneath the tree.

On the ride, the strangest new discovery was the islais creek plaza, a concrete plaza running alongside Islais Creek -- a creek now canal that is bordered mostly by crumbling warehouses, and a few industrial plants. On the opposite side, residents have tried to create a park, but it looks lost. The plaza just looks out of place sitting behind a bunch of warehouse businesses and truck depots. It must be halfway decent place to have a lunch. Saturday, a dozen skateboarders, give or take, all slapping and rolling wheels, jumped and slid across the concrete embankments. A dog possibly a stray roamed around paying me as little attention as the boarders.

The road leading up to the plaza had 3 or 4 RVs parked and chairs and other lounging equipment set at their banks. A makeshift houseboat that used to reside over by a yacht club near jellies, now floated in the creek -- a shack on a small raft. I always wondered how he or she got away with it, but if I were homeless...

My favorite momement of the day though was at the S Van Ness post office station. I handed over my pink packing slips and drivers license; the woman looks at the licensem and says, "its your birthday." Her coworker looks at me, "he looks like that actor..." "Do you want us to sing you happy birthday?" asks the first, and without waiting they launch into happy birthday with some gusto -- punchy perhaps after a long saturday and week of dealing with ornary (sp?) customers. I have a grin from ear to ear, probably beet red, and the whole place is cracking up.

Made my day.


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