San Francisco Memories Vol. II

We were young when we lived in San Francisco. At least it seems that way now. The first year Mr. Ten S and I lived there, we lived in The Haight on Cole Street. Right in the thick of it. Hippies, gangsters, punks, and smelly hipsters of all sorts. One of our friends called it "The Human Zoo." Part of the Human Zoo was the drug scene. And I can't say that we were innocent by-standers. In fact, I blame my memory loss on the time I lived there. It was all too available and so much a part of the culture that we were amateurs compared to most.

One Friday night after work, Mr. Ten S, myself and a co-worker friend of mine were hanging out and, well, enjoying life. I can only say that you haven't fully experienced Nature's wonder until you've had some from Humboldt County in Northern California. This stuff was wicked. All natural and really potent. I had a healthy respect for the stuff after a bad incident where I mistook it for the cheap stuff and had a total paranoid freakout. This would be part of the reason why I'm done with it now.

Anyhow, we had been hanging out, talking and partaking all evening. I felt woogie, but fine. It came time for our friend to leave. We said our goodbyes and sent him out the door to walk home as he lived a few blocks from us. About a half an hour went by and someone was ringing our doorbell. We wondered who it could be at such a late hour. We opened the door and found our friend that we'd sent home. He looked a little stressed out, so we invited him back in. This is when he proceeded to tell us that he had tried to walk home, but had gotten lost and had been wandering around the neighborhood for the last half hour. He asked if he could stay for awhile until he could think straight.

I'm sorry brain cells. It all seemed like a good idea at the time.