No, I haven't been converted to some New Age zen mentality just yet, but my first day in San Francisco did convince me that the world has it's own way of telling us things, and sometimes in not so pleasant ways.
It all began with my walk home from the grocery store. Given that I'm in California, I had optimistically put on shorts and long sleeves to run. However, my sweet outfit made for a chilly walk home. Once the goosebumps had taken up permanent residence on my legs and my fingers were frozen in a tight grasp around the grocery bags, I was anxious to get back to the apartment. In my haste, I found myself in the wrong apartment complex, wandering around only knowing that if I got to the dog park I'd gone too far. I finally realized where I was supposed to be and hurried over there to warm up before my run.
An hour later, Kaitlin picked me up for our run, and we set out to find the trail on the Crystal Springs Reservoir. This also proved more difficult than we had anticipated. We drove around for about fifteen minutes, thought we had found the trail, determined that it was wrong, got back in the car, called for directions, and 20 minutes later, finally found the right trail. We went for an amazing run with a great view of the clear, still water and the lush green hills. But nothing kills an endorphin high like getting back to your car and seeing the window smashed in. Yep. No joke. Kait's purse got stolen as well.
After filing the police report and narrowly averting a breakdown - both emotional and due to lack of gas for the car - we got back and I decided that I could shower off the morning's unfortunate events. But alas, the fun was just beginning. I mean, it was only 1pm.
We went down to Fisherman's wharf, and walked along the water taking in the sights on our way to Pier 23, a sweet seafood joint with some bitchin' fish tacos. In true San Francisco fashion, there was a group of hippies playing guitars with a sign that said "give us money for weed". I naturally did a double take, but in that split second, their friend who was hiding in the trashcan wearing an alien costume decided to jump out at me and growl.
I almost slugged the guy while expletives spewed out of my mouth.
To top it all off, seconds after this terrifying encounter, a bird relieved himself on my face, and while I was simultaneously choking back tears, cleaning off my sunglasses and cursing Jack for laughing at me, the girl soliciting Alcatraz tours said, "they say it's good luck when a bird poops on you."
All I can say is that I couldn't make this stuff up. But I do need to figure out if these events were a product of some bad karma. If they were, I might need to do some aura cleansing. I'm sure I'm mixing up philosophies, but give me a break, I've only been in California for a couple days...
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