The Mission

On Friday I headed to SFSU for what seemed to be an interview for a teaching gig this fall. I might instead call it a meeting of two confused minds, but that’s not why I’m writing today.

After leaving the very lengthy interview with a man who knew less about what was going on at the university than I did (he had just returned from nearly a year long sabbatical) I hopped on the MUNI, bus 26. I took bus 26 into the Mission where I planned on meeting Toby for dinner at a favorite tapas place called Ramblas.

We’ve been to Ramblas numerous times. So why did I get lost? I guess because I came at it from a totally different direction. Either way, somehow thinking the restaurant was on Mission and 16th, I overshot my destination and wandered through The Mission, dressed better than usual, and carrying the world’s fattest, most unstable graphic design portfolio.

I tried to call Toby in order to ask him where it was exactly I was to be at 7. But he didn’t answer. I figured he must be on route to me.

I was starting to sweat beneath my black jacket. My shoes were starting to hurt, and my right arm had developed the world’s most uncomfortable charlie horse from carrying the portfolio for so long. I wasn’t feeling too well and I was having my monthly visitor as well. All I wanted to do was sit down and pant. As I was nearing the McDonald’s on Mission in between 16th and 17th, my memory began to come back to me. I suddenly knew where Ramblas was! So it was then, during a brief moment of elation, the begging 20+ indie rock I-smeared-this-Prada-dirt-on-my-face-and-it-cost-me-70-dollars Kid began to talk to me.

Hey, girl! Spare me some change so I can get a hamburger. Please!

I looked at him. I felt like shit. The last thing I wanted to do was stop, put my portfolio down, rummage through my (I am now going to admit to something that will not make me look very good during my seemingly upper-handed situation) Kate Spade bag, and pull out whatever little bits of change I might have so this 25 year old Nike wearing street-living hipster could get a hamburger. A crack-head? For sure, though I’m pretty sure that a crack-head wants nothing to do with any hamburger meat. Either way, I just looked at him. I began to shake my head, politely.

Awwww, COME ON! Just some change for a hamburger? Come on. Please? Everyone else is ingoring me! You didn’t! Please?

I really started to regret my curious eye movement. I really should have ignored this guy like the others had.

I am sorry. I don’t have any change.

I probably lied. But I didn’t know that I had had change, so maybe it wasn’t a total lie. I continued to walk by him and he started to get more worked up. He spat at me these words:

Oh great. Fine. Enjoy the karma, girl.

I am not sure what came over me. Perhaps I was annoyed that someone who claimed to have no money wanted to take my money (which these days is really not mine for the giving but instead, Toby’s) in order to buy quite possibly the shittiest grade of meat America has to offer. Perhaps I didn’t want this little pecker to buy dead cow with my change. Whatever it was something had me reaching for my hare krishna membership card and I had an Ignatius P. Riley moment.

I’m not the one eating meat.

He got agitated, asked me things like “What did you just say?” and “Say that again!” But I continued to walk away, him meatless and annoyed, me sweaty and slightly fearful I might be hit in the back of the head with a 311 cd.

14 Comments

  1. Good thing he didn’t ask for spare change for a crepe.

    I think you must have good karma. It’s what drew that leach to you. He wanted some.

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  2. Ahhh the crepe guy. Actually, had we wanted a crepe, I may have stopped.

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  3. Bravo! excellent come back, and i’m going to use that one!

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  4. Please note: I am very aware of the fact that I am a hypocritical bitch so there is no need to send me an email saying as much.

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  5. It’s ok, everyone gets a little ‘moo’dy from time to time…

    ducks

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  6. Lana is referring to an article Nico sent me. here it is.

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  7. And the general meaty theme of this post…

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  8. Where’s the beef?

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  9. In Ron Jeremy’s pants, I recently learned.

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  10. I wonder if the participants in San Francisco’s notorious “underground scene” are laughing their asses off at the cuddle party concept. Moo.

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  11. This story cracks me up because the same crap happened to me only it was a guy trying to get me to go to his church. Never mind that I already have my own church and am anyway ridiculously into spiritual stuff, it annoyed the shit out of me when he said “It’s not wise to say no to God.” To which I replied “I’m saying no to YOU.” Love your site and your writing!

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  12. you could have just told him that “i don’t feel like stopping, putting my portfolio down, rummaging through my Kate Spade bag, and pulling out whatever little bits of change I might have cause i just got back from a job interview type-a-thing and i’m hot and i don’t eat meat!” great story ;o)

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  13. “I am too sexy for your meat. Too sexy for you meat. To sexxeeeee.”

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  14. Lawdy, when I was on the West Coast (Seattle and many work trips to Portland and SF) I grew to loathe the alterna-beggars/crusty punks who dogged me 24-7.

    You did good. Heh.

    Reply

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