Wishlist + an SF story for you.

I've always known I had a thing for prints, stripes, polka dots, and chevron.  However, I wasn't fully aware of this sickness I'd developed until I realized I'd been collecting pictures of very, very similar tops.  Oh well.  I like them all.  Apparently I'm also digging the red, black, and white this season too.  Hmm...

On to more important things.  I got back from Utah on Tuesday.  Normally a cab ride from the airport to our shack costs about $50.  The craziest part is it's only a 15-20 minute drive {depending on traffic}. I've gone to the airport kind of a lot since we've been here {trip to Laguna, trip to Ohio, trip to Utah}.  I started adding up how much I'd spent on taxis to the airport alone and started to feel ill.  That's not even taking into account all of the Ubers and taxis I've been in throughout this journey.  Suddenly, my "survival in the city mode" started to kick in as I was sitting in the SLC airport.  Basically, this can mean various things, depending on the circumstance.  For example, my city survival mode when I'm walking down the street = Mean face, no phone out, zipped purse, clutching onto purse, determined look, and acting like I know where the heck I am.

This place has changed me {hopefully just temporarily}.  I'm suddenly very conscious of what I wear when I'm out alone; I try to wear more neutral things that won't draw as much attention {haven't worn the yellow pants in a while}.  I flip my wedding ring back {since when was I ashamed of that bad boy??}.  I don't wear much jewelry when I'm out and about.  I walk even more quickly than I normally do {that's saying something --- just ask any of my 6th graders}.  When I shop, I cram everything into one bag so that it looks like I didn't buy as much {weirdest reasoning ever}.  I make mean faces when people on the streets get up in my face asking for money for beer.  WHO HAVE I BECOME?!  I seriously feel like some kind of mean, sullen tempered person every time I step out of my apartment.  I just don't want to look too vulnerable, people.  I know you're probably judging me right now.  I don't blame you.  But this all just goes back to my stupid survival mode that kicks in without any kind of thinking.

My city survival mode when traveling is a bit more complicated and varies depending on my mood.  Sometimes it means that I just want to find the quickest and safest way somewhere.  Sometimes it means that even if it's only a few blocks away, I'm still taking a taxi when it's dark outside.  Other times I'm somehow overcome with feelings of "I can do freaking anything" and I suddenly am only searching for the most cost efficient way of doing things.  It becomes some kind of weird game where I find myself asking, "Okay...how can I save the most money and still accomplish the same end goal?"  I know most normal people ask themselves that question regularly, but I think my first example will demonstrate how I've taken this to a whole new level.

I somehow manage to kick at least one version of this "mode" in a day.  Here are two of my most recent "survival in the city mode" experiences when it comes to traveling...

Exhibit A:

I took my first taxi to the airport when I went to Laguna to see J's fam.  I had to leave around 6:00 am so I didn't dare risk being late/going on the BART that early.  I could not believe it cost me a whopping $50 to get there.  So, since I was getting back in the middle of the day {& I obviously have a pretty open schedule} I decided to take the BART.  The BART is only $8.25, compared to the $50 I'd have to pay in a taxi. 

You may remember my thoughts on that day.  The BART station that I get off at is on Powell St. which is conveniently where Union Square happens to reside.  I walk there pretty frequently so I quickly reasoned that instead of paying another $8 or so for a taxi, I could simply walk home that day as well.  One problem.  I had a 35 lb. {which is packing lightly in my book} suitcase with me & it's mostly uphill.  And when I say "uphill," I mean it's basically an 85 degree angle at some points.  I'd completely forgotten about how when I walk home with just my own body and purse, I get out of breath and break a sweat.  Surely I could handle an extra 35 lbs!  Hey, I'm only 24.  I was made for this kind of stuff.  WRONG.  I huffed and puffed and wheezed and wanted to curse my own name for coming up with this crazy idea while I struggled up the hills, pulling my suitcase along.  By the time I was finally home, a sweaty mess, and wishing I had an inhaler, JD called and we had the following conversation:

J: Wow.  Are you climbing up a hill right now?
A: Why? {Insert very, very sassy voice}
J:  You're just breathing really loudly.
A: Fine.  Yeah, I was... like 5 minutes ago.

Then came my explanation of my stupid, STUPID idea which all came to pass because of my crazy "survival mode in the city" tactics.  Exhibit B isn't as drastic or physically straining, but it's probably more traumatic.

Exhibit B:

As I was saying, I was sitting in the airport thinking about the ridiculous amount of money I'd spent on taxis, when I decided to again take the BART on my way home.  This time however, I learned my lesson and had already planned on taking a cab the rest of the way home.  I got on the BART and sat down.  As I was getting all of my things settled, I heard a woman {for the sake of the story, let's just call her Sue} ask another woman if she had any chapstick she could borrow.  Judge me if you want, but I was kind of surprised to hear a complete stranger ask someone else that.  I mean, I have to know you pretty darn well to share any kind of makeup with you...let alone somthing I put on my own lips.  The nice woman told her that she didn't, and that was the end of the conversation.

I pulled out my book and a few minutes later, I caught the tail end of another conversation between Sue and another lady.  The new lady was telling her about her lipgloss that she was using...

New Lady: Yeah, it's just called 'Wet 'n Wild.'  You can get it at any drugstores like Walgreens, Rite Aid... it's super cheap {insert a little chuckle at the end}.

Sue: {Insert complete and utter mocking of chuckle of the first woman, while rolling her eyes and making a really scary, mean face}

New Lady: {Looks at daughter and then stares at the ground for the next few minutes with a scared look on her face}

Sue proceeded to taunt, yell at, laugh {very loudly} at and scream curse words at the lipgloss lady for the remainder of the ride.  Clearly she was on something.  I just kept telling myself over and over again to keep my head down, read my book, and not look up at her.  I was not about to be her next target {this is where my street walking city mode kicks in}.  It felt like the freaking longest ride of my life.  A rush of relief washed over me the second I walked off the train.  I was basically positive that I could go back to acting like my normal, happy self.  

I hailed down a taxi and hopped in.  My driver looked like he was fresh off his Harley.  We're talking chains on his arm, driving gloves, black cut-off t-shirt, bald, and a nice, white, triangular shaped beard.  I'm down with the biker dudes, let's just be clear about that.  However, this "biker dude" was a little on edge.  He proceeded to tell me that he didn't have a credit card machine and that we would have to do it the "old-fashioned" way.  There wasn't much I could do about it at that point, so I just sat quietly until we started getting close to my apartment.  I told him where to pull up and all of a sudden he just started freaking out..."I CAN'T PARK RIGHT THERE!  A COP'S GOING TO GIVE ME A TICKET!! I CAN'T DO IT!!" In my head I'm thinking, "Dude.  Cops don't give tickets for anything here.  You can go walk around in the nude while smoking pot, and no one cares."  But out loud I just said, "Okay."  

We pulled over to a different side of the road, where he proceeded to trace my card and write out my information.  I felt like it was a little sketchy, but there wasn't much I could do.  I will say that he did have a whole box of them, which made me feel at least a little grateful that I wasn't the only one who'd been suckered into this crappy situation.  Anything I'd say, he'd freak out over.  Like I said, the guy was on edge.  I just kept my mouth shut while he took care of his business.  I couldn't help but remind him to pop the trunk so I could get my suitcase out.  Yeah, that was a bad idea.  I could've done without his..."I KNOWWW!  I'M GOING TO!!!"  

It's just that I'm very used to communicating with people who are civil and, well, normal.  At least pretty normal.  My dumb "survival in the city mode" only provided me with stress and anxiety that day.  Suddenly I realized that maybe part of surviving in the city, is just giving in and paying a little extra cash to have a decent cab driver pick you up at the airport 'cause I sure as heck didn't feel like I was any kind of safe in that BART or with my Harley driver.  

Moral of the story?  I think I've recently become a magnet for crazy people, awkward situations, and uncomfortable settings.  And, more than saving my pennies, I've come to my own personal conclusion that sometimes a few extra dollars is worth it when it comes to being safe and keeping my attitude about this city a bit more positive.  In all honesty, SF is a fun place to be.  I'd probably absolutely LOVE coming here on vacation.  Living here is a bit of a different story, but always adventurous.  I think that's the way it is/would be with any big city.  I'm just trying to become accustomed to living that big city life.  I'll get the hang of it one day.  Mark my words.  

P.S. For those of you who are as anal and paranoid as I am, I have been watching my bank account on a regular basis and notified the bank of the situation incase anything sketchy comes about.  

P.P.S. If you're actually still reading, you're pretty amazing.  And mom...you don't count.  You have to read everything I write.