I’ve lived a one-sidedly suburban existence. I occasionally develop pangs of inferiority about it, too, supposing, as I do that never having resided in a big city means I’ve missed something. Perhaps I’ve failed to prove to myself that I’m tough enough to survive outside of the burbs, or in any environment that isn’t pocked with mini-malls and minivans and cul-de-sacs. I ask myself, “How hardened can you really be when you can find a parking spot in fewer than 45 minutes and you’ve never been propositioned for hand-relief by a toothless heroin fiend of unspecified gender?”

When I flew up to San Francisco last week to surprise my sister for her 40th birthday, I intentionally left myself a few hours to tool around the city and immerse myself in all things urban. I figured the first and best way to achieve that immersion was to hop aboard the city’s mass transit system. My flight landed in Oakland around 3:00 and Wondersis’ surprise party didn’t start until 7:00. I decided to take BART across the bay and into San Francisco proper.

This is where I began to re-evaluate the idea of urban existence and my interest therein.

Between the BART station and my final destination, I saw:

• a drug deal in broad daylight
• a shirtless man on a bicycle riding circles around the civic center and yelling “The San Francisco Police Department are lying pieces of human shit!” (I elected not to correct his apocalyptic subject/verb disagreement)
• a tattoo/piercing shop on Haight Street that advertises its daily piercing specials in its storefront window. Wednesday was nipple day. Twenty bucks per areola. (Sadly, I’m not in a position to tell you whether or not that’s a bargain, but perhaps one of you mammarily bejeweled readers can.)
• myself, standing like a moron inside the civic center BART station because I couldn’t figure out that you have to insert your ticket into the little machine to open the exit gates

I was starting to feel pretty weirded-out. I tend to bitch and complain ad nauseum about the particulars in my droll suburban lifestyle that chap my ass – traffic and property taxes and whatnot – but it doesn’t seem so terrible in comparison to life in a big city like San Francisco. Here in Orange County, I can go several days without fearing for my life or feeling confused to the point of spontaneous incontinence. But in the city, I always feel like a douche. I always feel like my deeply ingrained “Southern Californianess” stands out in a big city like a DEA narc at a top-secret rave party, and I project onto the people who eyeball me a genuine, spiritual desire to kick my ass and throw my bruised carcass into a dumpster behind the sex shop on Geary.

I’ll say it for you: I’m a puss.

This is the point in the story where a more thoughtful writer would reference some well-known fairy tale in which a poor, down-on-his-luck sap goes through hell and comes out shitting shiny gold bars in the end. But I’m not that writer (which you already know because I just wrote the words “Southern Californianess”).

My journey ended when I reached the home of my sister’s friends, which is but a snot-rocket away from the center of the Birkenstock-wearing, Hendrix-worshipping, The-Chronic-smoking, let’s never-wash-our-feet-again, militant vegan universe. I haven’t smoked pot in many, many years, but I got a killer contact high just by walking down the street.

This much is clear: my sister has some extraordinarily cool friends, city-dwellers though they may be. After we all gathered at the door to surprise Wondersis (not too loudly though, because she’s old and frail), we sat down to one of the best meals I’ve ever had. I ate my first oyster (on purpose!), drank in excess, and ultimately realized that underneath all of the highly concentrated poverty and pierced flesh and “Northern Californianess”, there’s a least one big city worth its weight in lying pieces of human shit.

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Wondersis. Hope you don’t fall and break your hip before I see you again.

Comments

You didn't go for the nipple piercing? Should have. I bet they could do some sort of optical illusion with nipple rings, and it may have straightened things out.

Wondersis, you're gorgeous! Happy Birthday!

Gosh I live in the inner city a few blocks from a piercing tattooing toy purchasing place. Now my problem is when I leave the city I get lost because suburbia looks exactly the same where ever you go, which ever way you look...and god forbid trying to find a home in a winding many cul de sac monstrosity. It terrifies and confounds me. I'm used to neighborhoods that are unique unto themselves.

SF pretty much smells like the world's biggest urinal to me. At least it did the last time I was there. Does it still smell like pee?

I would have to agree with stljoie put me in a burb and I am totally lost. Oh and you should have gone for the nipple piercing - it was a pretty good deal (like 1/2 price even)

Ah, The City. I was just there two weeks ago. It doesn't freak my shit out like it does you, and my 9 y.o. figured out BART sooner than you, but I think it's because girls mature faster than boys.

I lived in San Francisco for years, and I still remember the time I saw a little tourist boy strolling Polk & Bush ("poke in bush" as we used to call it) with his parents. As they crossed at the crosswalk, two tatted men sporting gigantic nipple rings, one with bare-assed chaps and the other in tight leather, came walking toward them. The kid, who was about 7 (I'll call him "Danny") had his mouth agape and his eyes wide as the men approached. It was then that "Danny's" dad took his hand and casually tried to cover the kid's entire face.

The DH and I almost moved to the city after grad school. It seemed like a really cool idea until I realized how afraid I was to look at apartments by myself.

Why are all big city mass transit toilets called, "Marta" or "Barta" or "Farta?"

What ever happened to originality? I'd like, just once to see, "Tube in a Tunnel" (TIT).

Oh, and first time I ever ate a raw oyster, was standing on the banks of the Gulf of Mexico. Oyster farmer just pulled his bag outta the water and he shucked me open one. I took the ear-shaped oyster shell after he loosened the muscle from the shell wall, and slurped it down in one gulp.

Then I turned to the side and threw up.

I'm very experienced for my years.

I'm with you on this one. I'd like to picture myself as a supremely hip, roll-with-the-punches city type of gal; but a walk of a few blocks in any major metropolitan city is enough to send me running back to my pretty little world of box stores and shrubbery. I'm sheltered, and I'm proud.

The City is indeed a big, mean, scary place, and you are right to run and cower in fear from it. Welcome back to the suburban flock! Baaaaa!
(And happy birthday to Wondersis)

Ha! Great post! And, happy bday to wondersis!

So, you've traveled to the big city, but have you been to the tiniest of towns (ones without their own *gasp* mall?)

lol

Sorry Danny, but to be obfious, did your mom every tell you when you were adopted? From the photo of you with that lovely lady the lack of familial genes is obvious.

your sister is a lot prettier than you are.

and i'm intimidated by the 'burbs. they scare me. i'm afraid someone will spot the chick from the ghetto and call the cops on me for trespassing on their perfect little world.

I have to say, I do yearn for the green sometimes but I don't know how you suburban-living folks handle the whole car seat thing. My kids so hate the car seat that if we lived in the country or suburbs, we'd never get out of the house.

Seriously, the screaming is head-splitting. Like we're locking them into some kind of torture device and waiting for their heads to explode.

I'll take my dirty NYC subway...where it's quiet and children aren't writhing in anguish. (God, can you believe I said that?)

I'm new to DGM comments - great blog and some really fun people commenting! - happy to meet all of you, suburban, urban or otherwise...

Kim from "The Yummy Mummy Cooks Gourmet"

I love the 'burbs. I'm not even ashamed of it. I like knowing there is a Target and a Best Buy and every national restaurant chain known to man within ten minutes of my house. Call me crazy, but I love the fact I can drive to the grocery store, buy three hundred dollars worth of groceries, and load them up in the back of my mini-van. That quandry has perplexed me for years --- how do people who live in the city and don't own cars get their groceries home? Do they shop every single day, buying just one or two bags worth? Balance the 12-pack of jumbo Charmin on their head, like the women from Uganda with the bowls of water??? Truly, I'm confounded by that.

I've been to NYC numerous times and every time I leave there thinking, "Thank you God, for letting me be born in the 'burbs." I don't like big cities, and have no desire to learn to like them. There. I said it out loud. Not because I'm afraid or intimidated, but because they are crowded and noisy and dirty and stinky. No thanks.

Give me land. I'm so not the type for city life. I live in Austin, but these hippies do everything they can to decityfy it. And, I realize that is not a word, but whatever.

momo fali - You totally rock! Thank you.

JoeInVegas - close. I'm the one who's adopted.

Everyone - thanks for your birthday wishes! You all are so nice!

Can you all imagine that my sweetest, most funnest, puss-brother ever came all the way to SF and braved the big bad city just to come to my birthday party?! He left first thing in the am. I feel so, so lucky. I love that I can hang as easily with my brother as with my best friends. It was the best birthday surprise ever. Well, and my only surprise birthday...

But, dude. about the hip comments - Yeah. I'm 40, but you're not far behind me little bro.

"I always feel like my deeply ingrained “Southern Californianess” stands out in a big city..."

Yeah, that's 'cause it DOES. That guy at the Civic Center was an actor and that tattoo shop was just a fake front. Heck - don't you recognize fake Hollywood crap when ya' see it? ('cept the pot smoke. That's ... that's real.)

Just discovered your blog. Thanks for making me laugh on a rainy, Monday morning!

Being only 1 hour from Boston and 3 from NYC, people assume I go to those cities often. Abosolutely not. And for the same reasons as you. Unless its a Red Sox game or a play on Broadway, I keep pretty clear.

What I dislike is the smell of stale cigarettes and diesel fumes with the overtone of urine.(mostly downtown) I'll pass. Having said that, there are some stunning neighborhoods and scenery.

Oh, and Happy birthday Wondersis, and my condolences on your (DGM) Ducks, those bastards from Dallas are doing it to my Sharkies now.

So. Cal isn't a big city?

Yeah, so, I do have to ask...since when did the OC become a small town? ;-)

(This coming from a girl who spent the first 24 years of her life in Oklahoma and the last 2 in North Dakota.)

I've been to Orange County, and you haven't seen small until you've been in Walhalla, North Dakota...population 20 plus a few moose. :-)

I'm scared of the burbs as well as the city. I live in the south (read rural south). My accent alone is enough to get the crap kicked out of me in both North and South Cal.

Seriously? San Fran is only the 14th most populous city in the states. As in, SF itself is practically a small town! But then again, I've always lived in bigger cities, so I find the suburbs weird and disorienting and a little creepy, so there it is - a place for everyone. And, apparently, everyone in his place, right? I mean, you're not moving soon, are you?

Nice photo...hello from a british girl...
Rachel

We live in SoCal too. Northern LA burbs. Took the kids to the big city of Ventura for an art festival. In one hour, we saw 2 out in the open drug transactions, many the tattoo'd barefooted 'hobos' (as my daughter would call them), 3 homeless people , 2 sex shops....what a great family outing. My kid (8 years old) still has the stop and gawk reflex - so we did a lot of that. Amen for the burbs, man.

Oh yeah- and 40 is the new black. Congrats, Wondersis!

I live in the suburbs of NYC, which are actually more city-like than the cities I've visited in the midwest. As much as I love it here, lately I feel this pull to more open spaces. I imagine we'll move way from here someday, and when we come back for a visit, my son will be just as confused as you were.

Happy birthday, Wondersis--you're so much prettier than the old dude next to you. :-)

And yeah, I concur on the nipple rings. Plus, it would have made for a few really cool pictures on this blog.

Happy birthday Wondersis!

I routinely take a trip down into Boston for some doctor appointments, and I always marvel at the different cultures presented in the same place. And its not often that you see a 400-pound man, shirtless, posing on a park bench like he's a GAP model.

Wondersis is SO pretty..like movie star pretty. She is VERY lucky to have such a thoughful brother..you went there for more than blog content I'm sure.

I did SF by myself when I was up there for business. I noticed that it did smell alot like pee..and where I went..which was all over there were so many homeless people/beggers/drug addicts. If I were homeless I don't think I'd be in SF..I think I would try someplace warmer and dryer.

OH..and another thing.. 40 is NOT old.. (asswhole)

Just FYI folks - the SF pee smell? It's because we have an ANCIENT sewer system. But there's some 97million year plan to replace the ENTIRE system. Come back then. It'll smell as good as it looks.

I get an Ally Sheedy vibe from Wondersis (minus the whole awkward, social-outcast thing she tends to have) (Ally Sheedy, not Wondersis.)

Anyway, Happy Birthday to you, Wondersis! (and I agree, you're much prettier than your brother.)

Oh, and I like the new look of the site. (Please don't tell me it's been this way for a month and I just haven't noticed...)

Just the thought of getting in and out of big-city things scares me; I’m generally the only suburban dork on the sidewalk that has to take several minutes to plan my timed entrance into a revolving door. I don’t know if other subway systems have the words “Mind the Gap” written on the platform like the tube in London, but I find that I don’t just mind the gap—I fret the gap. And, for me, a ride full of near fender benders in a taxi always concludes in an unplanned pub crawl….

Damn, I miss that City. The Tourettes-to-normalcy ratio is astounding, and makes for interesting daily commutes.

Which one of you is adopted?

Over the hill now, right Wondersis? hee, hee. (I can laugh at you because my 40th birthday was 16 years ago.) Happy birthday.

I not only don't like big cities but I don't really care for suburbia either. Not to live there, anyway. There is a very good reason I've lived on 38 acres the last 36 years and the house is over 100 yards from the road and 5.5 miles from the nearest wide spot in the road that calls itself a town (population about 400). We do not understand how people can live so close to each other that when a person sneezes the neighbor says "Gesundheit" and you are both in your respective houses with the windows closed. The only drawback from living in the country is that there is no cable internet and the nearest Wal*Mart super center is 26 miles away.

Call me crazy, but I love the fact I can drive to the grocery store, buy three hundred dollars worth of groceries, and load them up in the back of my mini-van. That quandry has perplexed me for years --- how do people who live in the city and don't own cars get their groceries home?

we don't buy 300 dollars worth.

i'm glad you can drive too. keep that war in iraq going!

The fabulous Wondersis shares a birthday month with MOI -- we're both 40 now. And while I do share a love for San Francisco, I must say that the word "airatarian" came from that place (it's listed in the Urban Dictionary)...which means SF trumps even my hometown of Maui for throwback-to-hippieness.

I spent Saturday in Hollywood. And I mean, Hollywood Blvd, Hollywood. It ain't Sunset. There's a lot of weird, crazy, effed up folk down there. And then there was the heat. Oh good god was it waaaay too damn hot to be outside.

On a side note, I am totally lost on Kati's comment. HUH?

I've always wondered about the grocery thing in places like San Fran or NY. And also the carseat thing. Do kids not ride in carseats in cabs? Why do I wonder about all this? Because I like question marks???

what's sf got that memphis ain't got?

;)

I would guess talking penis posters, I've never seen them anywhere else. SF is an awesome place.

Thank Heavens, the Universe and God Himself, that Wondersis got the genes she did and doesn't look like you.

I hope Wondersis has the best year yet. 40 rocks. Or so I hear. I'm just a youngster at 32 so what do I know? Heh.

And Danny, $20 a nipple is a steal.

If only I had known about nipple sales I'd have so went bargain shopping before forking out my husband's dough to get my boobs bejewelled.

DGM, whatever you do, don't mention Prince Albert in one of those piercing places.

'Playa' Danny: (Playa is urban speak for cool dude. I think. It sounds good.)

My first trip to San Francisco was in 1992, and I thought it was the coolest place I had ever been (and this after a trip to Amsterdam in 1982!). By that time I had been living near and working in Baltimore for a while, so I had been 'inoculated' (if that is the right word) against the crazy/urine/drug deal vibe. All part of the mystery that is life, my friend! Although the only heroin fiend of he/she-ness I've ever been propositioned by wasn't toothless. Well, he/she/it had at least one tooth. I wasn't looking too closely.

Hey, if you ever come to Baltimore, let me know; I can take you up to Calvert Street to see if the Sarong ManLady is still around! Harmless enough, but terrible taste in shower caps and flip flops!

Happy Birthday WonderSis!!!

In other news, school buses, city buses, subways, and cabs are exempt from the car seat rule.

Happy Birthday WonderSis!!!

In other news, school buses, city buses, subways, and cabs are exempt from the car seat rule.

Kinda funny that these two posts were written on the same day...

(Mighty Girl lives in San Fran)

http://mightygirl.com/2008/04/28/cultural-norms/