A One-of-A-Kind Souvenier

I just got back from a quick trip to San Francisco. We stayed in a hotel about two blocks away from Fisherman's Wharf. We visited Chinatown and the North End ("little Italy"), as well as took a cruise around the bay and a ride on a cable car. I had some of the best meals I've had in a l - o - n - g time: roasted mussels with garlic, gnocchi with spinach and walnuts, a burger from In-and-Out, and so on. San Francisco is one of my favorite towns - it has a sensibility and an eclecticness that just seem to "match" me. "Weird" is normal there, and that appeals to me.

I truly love the wharf area, though. I love the smell of the ocean and the faint, lingering, fishiness of the day's catch. I love the smell of sourdough baking. I love the sound of sealions barking and gulls squawking. I love all the "only in San Francisco" sights, from the beautiful orange bridge rising out of the bay, to the glass cases full of pink shrimp and red crab lined up like soldiers in formation, to the numerous oddities you find populating the piers: the homeless lady who drops down to the sidewalk like she's going to do push-ups, only to lick the cement; the "Bush Man" hiding behind his fake shrubbery to jump out at unsuspecting tourists; what seem like dozens of "robot man" guys who paint themselves silver (one was gold!) and pretend to be statues as they stand on top of a milk crate, and so on. I love the feel of the sea breeze in my hair and the salt mist on my skin, and the kaleidescope of brilliant colors in all the cheap tourist-trap shops along the Embacadero. If I were ever going to live in a "big" city, San Francisco would definitely be on the top of my list.

My brother, Bert, asked me to bring him "something cool" from my trip. I was only too happy to oblige, since he was taking care of my dog while I was gone. However, since I was not exactly sure what qualified as "something cool," I asked him to be more specific. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe something hippy?"

So with nothing more specific in mind, I wandered up and down the Embacadero. Finally, I saw something that would be perfect for him. I walked past a man, sitting in one of the flower planters that line the sidewalk, wearing what were clearly last week's clothes (if not last month's) and eating something unidentifiable out of a styrofoam container. He had a sign made out of cardboard propped against his chest, and on it was scribbled in marker, "Why lie? Need money for beer. Out of luck - spare me a buck!"

I approached him and said, "Hey, I'll buy your sign from you!"

He had a hard time making both eyes focus on me at the same time. His right eye seemed to be looking at me, but his left eye was squinting and looking off to the left somewhere. "You aren't going to go panhandle with it, are you?" he asked me.

"No," I said. "I just want to buy your sign."

"If I sell you my sign, what will I use?"

"I don't know," I said. "You can make yourself a new one."

He hesitated. "Welllll..."

"I'll give you twenty bucks for it."

"Sold!"

I handed him a twenty, and he gave me his sign, and we were both happy with the deal.

As I walked away, I heard him mumbling under his breath, "Geez, I should just make signs...." I laughed, and congratulated myself on scoring a truly one-of-a-kind souvenier that pretty much epitomizes San Francisco.

The next day, we were out on the wharf again. I saw my former business partner sitting in the same flower bed. Guess what? He had a new sign that read, "Why lie? Need money for beer...."

Guess it's not so "one-of-a-kind," after all.