Because I’ve been here for 7.5 weeks, which makes me suuuuuuch an expert.
- The squirrels are some of the laziest, brazen assholes around. I saw a squirrel straight up stop midway through sauntering across my walking path, and look at me like, “whatchu gonna do, bitch?” Then I’m pretty sure he flipped me the finger and kept strolling to the tree on the other side. Don’t get me started on the pigeons.
- Tourists are the worst. Everyone knows it. No matter how lost you get, do not look like a tourist. Sometimes, when I’m looking up directions, I’ll pretend like I’m responding to a very exasperating email. I’ll sigh, mutter something like “ughhhh, Jonathan,” and then quickly figure out which direction home is. My sense of direction has not gotten better.
- I’m still surprised I haven’t seen anyone murdered by a car while crossing the street. This has just as much to do with the people crossing the street as it does with cars trying to beat yellow/red lights.
- On that note, pussies wait for the walk sign. You’re supposed to edge as close to the actual driving lane as possible, crane your neck around parked cars, and pray that a bus doesn’t lop off your noggin so you can figure out if you can save 30 seconds by walking when the red hand clearly tells you not to. Ain’t nobody got time for waiting for walk signs.
- The Waffles and Dinges stand at the end of the 6 line, by Brooklyn Bridge, smells delicious and dishes out delicious speculoos-covered waffles. It also dishes out diabetic comas, which will leave you clutching at your insides and asking “whyyyyyy, dinges, whyyyyyy?”
- Don’t question what just dripped out of the sky and on to your body. Just don’t. Best case scenario, it’s air conditioning liquid. There are so many worst cases it hurts my brain to think about.
- Subway stations are swampy portals to hell, and anyone who tells you differently is a liar. Alternate theory: they are awful on purpose, so you appreciate the air conditioned subway cars all the more. But really, 24-7 subway transportation is the tits, and I’ll take those fiery hellholes over running to catch the last BART train out of SF any day.
- People actually are nice. You just can’t walk into some place and expect them to be like, “cheerio, old chap! My day is brightened by your presence!” The first time I walked into Pizza Pub, I apologized for not realizing we were supposed to grab our own plates, and the bartender said “there are worse things to be sorry for in the world.” Now she loves me! Okay, she tolerates me, but the other bartender there loves me.
- Find a bar from your hometown/state. If you’re lucky, they’ll love/take pity on you for coming in all the time by yourself, and buy you a free drink now and then. Or all the time. Other times, they’ll hear you complain that the tall beautiful one isn’t there and make you feel bad about it for a week.
- It’s expensive. get over it. has no one else ever paid $8 for a smoothie before? I totally have. I’ve also paid $10 for a sandwich. That’s Bay Area living for you, right there. However, the hotel sales tax is a real bitch, and we should all be allowed to complain about it as much as we want.
- It’s probably the best city in the world. I miss the Bay Area like woah, but here I can go around the corner and get a kitkat at 3am, after eating at a place where ninjas attack you. Sure, the avocados suck, but small price to pay, right?