Hey, kids! Gather ’round. Have I told you about the time I was stranded in San Francisco? No? Well you’re in for a reaaaaaal treat, let me tell ya.
But really. Let’s start from the beginning.
About a month ago, I receive a text from my boss saying we were required to attend a staff meeting. It kind of came in a serious tone, which kind of scared me. I mean, I know text messages don’t have tones. But really, we all know that that do. Anyway. Turns out that the “staff meeting” was a super awesome concert in San Francisco.
[Let’s take a moment to let you guys secretly cry over the fact my job is way better than yours. Okay, moving on.]
Here comes the Wednesday of departure. The rest of my coworkers had left for the city a few hours earlier, so as soon as I closed up shop early, my bosses and I were on the road. I’m not sure how we did it, but we dodged Sacramento traffic with impressive ease and had arrived around 6:30. Lucky for us, the show didn’t start until 8pm, because we then were trapped in stand-still traffic across the bay bridge for AN HOUR. YES. AN HOUR. Still bitter.
Parking was a bitch, as was anticipated since San Francisco is a place where it’s as easy to find parking as it is to find affordable housing. But we ended up parking in an Impark garage just near the Mission.
Smooth sailing, right?
We saw The Donkeys, a band based out of San Diego, Calif. It was AWESOME. SUCH A KILLER BAND LIKE UGH YES. If you haven’t listened to them, check them out on Spotify. That’s been my main playlist lately.
Despite the harassment we experienced from some 16-year-old looking kids that wanted us to “party tonight, bruh,” it was a wonderful outing. The Donkeys put on such an awesome and lively show. We were the classy group that was drunk and ended up throwing one of our bras on stage at the guitarist. We make no apologies.
Fast forward to the juicy parts.
We left the show with enough memorabilia to become embarrassing groupies and headed back to my car.
Now envision: I shit you not, we arrived at the garage at 12:02am. The man was locking the garage, as closing time was midnight. We so kindly asked him to unlock it for us, which he refused.
“Call the number on the sign to have them come unlock.”
Fine. Whatever. We call the number…IT WAS A DISCONNECTED IRRELEVANT NUMBER. I’M STILL MAD ABOUT THIS TO THIS DAY.
Stranded. I had class at 11am the next day and we had planned on opening shop back up at 7am. Great.
So we ended up getting pizza while calling every stupid Impark number that has ever been created just to find out that despite the nice sign stating to call this number to have garage unlocked, they don’t actually do that kind of thing. HOW NICE. WOWOWOWOWOW THANKS.
Also, let me tell you that the Mission has very slim pickings on decent hotels. You seriously don’t want to know the kind of hotels we looked up. Horrific. Scarring. No chance in hell.
Thankfully, one of my friends/coworkers had parents that lived in a neighborhood in Marin and we still had one car left. So seven of us pile into a torn up 4Runner with a missing seat to endure the trek across the bridge. (The Bridge, capital B? Help me out?)
We all knock out cold as soon as we arrived. However, waking up the next morning was the most wonderful experience of my life. Little did I know that I had been asleep in a house with fantastic views and fantastic coffee. My two favorite things in this entire universe.
We headed back into the city so I could be reconciled with my baby Honda. After retrieving it and ever-so-kindly not bitching out the worker, we searched for close STREET parking. (Seriously, screw Impark. SCREW. IMPARK. FOREVER.) With my glorious parallel parking skills, we had a spot in no time, not far from Ritual Coffee.
And let me tell you something. I love coffee. And I don’t think you understand how much. But I LOOOOVE coffee. Love. And Ritual was exceptional. I got a soy latte (as much as I wished it was regular milk… insert pouty face here) and a shot of espresso, both of which were wonderful. My latte might as well have been chocolate, it was so marvelous. Also, let me make a note to you that I never feel quite as sophisticated as I do when I receive a shot glass of sparkling water with my espresso. I don’t know what the purpose is, but hey. It’s there. It’s awesome. I’m glamorous.
After leaving, we go in search of food. Naturally. We end up at Boogaloos. The place is as cool as the name. (If you don’t know what boogaloo is, you’re truly missing out on a special treat in your life). The food was awesome. We all ordered too much because, well, we’re American and we celebrate our right to gluttony. We packed up our uneaten remains and gave it to a nice sleeping homeless man.
We strolled a little more and found ourselves in a nice little record store. I found a couple super rad ones for my own collection, which I may or may not be listening to right now as I’m typing this. Or maybe even as you’re reading this.
After that, my excellent city driving skills brought us safely back home.
Let me just take a moment to reflect. I mean, there we were, stressed out about our plans being totally altered. If we went home, we would have been exhausted and cranky. But we ended up slowly savoring the experience we had in San Francisco. We saw the Golden Gate Bridge in the late but shiny stages of morning, explored a neighborhood, and had plenty of good laughs in between. Crazy how it all worked out.
And that, kids, is the story of how I got stranded in San Francisco.
Anyway. I’m heading back to San Francisco this weekend. What are some awesome things I should check out? Maybe something a little hole-in-the-wall-esque? Leave them in the comments below!