Seriously. Four years ago they touted a State Park that is frequented only by the locals and, well, me, and I wound up following three Winebagos down fifteen miles of twisting two lane blacktop at twelve miles an hour.
I got off light this year, but just before it hit the recycling pile I found this on the back page:
The Haight Has a Hipper Look Today
By LESLEY TELLEZ
San Antonio Express-News
SAN FRANCISCO -- We're cruising down Haight Street in my friend's Toyota 4Runner, a blinding sun shining through the windshield. The windows are down and a cool breeze blows in. Bob Marley sings from the car stereo: "One love ... one life ... let's get together and feel all right."
Just then I spy Marley's face painted on an upcoming corner. Then, farther down, I see a pair of gigantic, fishnet-clad inflatable legs. Sticking out of a second-story storefront window. Cool. I'm finally in the Haight!
Ever since I was in the eighth grade, I've been fascinated by the hippie movement, and this five-block area in central San Francisco, east of Golden Gate Park, was its headquarters.
I suppose you're waiting for me to say something snarky, and I had every intention of doing so, but then I remembered the summer after my sophomore year when I travelled to Avignon hoping for an audience with the Antipope. So I'm cutting her some slack.