Friday Morning
Friday, March 16, 2007 at 11:30AM 
Cities are like people – especially in the mornings when they’re just beginning to wake up. They start out slowly, blinking at the morning light, and then in a span of about two hours everything’s in a rush…a mad flurry of efficient activity landing everyone exactly where they should be to begin the working day.
My day, in my city began around 5:30 this morning when I heard the loud clatter of metal and glass getting dumped into the recycling truck. I rolled over into my pillow once again for that delicious last hour of sleep before the alarm. A few hours later, and it’s a bright blue day here in San Francisco with nary a cloud to be counted. The air is crisp in the shadows and warm in the sunshine, and there’s that anticipatory buzz inherent in Friday mornings before a party weekend – everyone wants to get the work done early.
My express bus was the usual melee of humanity; two women shouting in loud Mandarin shoved their way off the bus as I tried to get on, while a young mother and child spoke to the bus driver in Spanish. An older woman tucked her Bottega Veneta bag onto her lap and opened her Japanese novel, as a young businessman reading The Economist sat next to her. As I stand, I read the different banner ads, written in four different languages, and then catch up on celeb scandal via the US Weekly over the shoulder of the girl next to me. Seated facing me, a woman flashes an enormous diamond ring as she flips through her magazine – this time written in Cyrillic letters. Behind me, someone’s overstuffed cheap plastic bags of a Clement Street grocery keep bumping into me and two other people. Here we are: the Marseilles of the West Coast.
The bus navigates around three others, vying for position at the curb, then, as though sighing with relief, releases its passengers to the busy downtown. People walk, talk, move along, don’t have time for you, gotta get coffee, let’s run and make the streetlight. It’s a no-nonsense time of day, yet there are more smiles since it’s Friday. At Bush and Battery the bike messengers are in a pack, staving off last night’s few-too-many at Zeitgeist by swigging out of a group carton of orange juice. Meanwhile, in front of the famous statues of the Pacific Stock Exchange, a lone saxophonist in a pork pie hat is playing a jaunty, saucy “When I Fall In Love…” while winking at the fast-walking girls. At California Street, young men in suits from Russian Hill hop off the cable car before the brakeman can hurl the heavy clutch forward, letting go of the whirring underground wire. His counterpart at the front clatters the bell in a loud happy rhythm that seems to say: “hurry up, let’s get to work, then we get to play…” The delivery men hustle, the coffee slingers keep the line moving, and the whole world has a spring in its step, a destination to meet.
It’s “casual Friday” for most, and the color green seems to be everywhere. The pubs at Sacramento and Front are already setting up their police barricades, hanging out the shamrocks, and tapping fresh kegs. The impending party weekend is already in the air, rushing everyone forward, beginning the day with the anticipation of good times, good weather, and good friends.
Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Daoibh!!!
Reader Comments (2)
San Franscisco sounds lovely! :)