 Nick and Sarah couldn’t wait to head north. Not because they didn’t like LA, but because they both loved San Francisco. Sarah had lived there for a semester of school and Nick had visited family there, all before the two met. Sarah knew that, of all places, she could find fantastic antique diamond engagement rings in San Francisco. Most of the city had a time-warp feel to it. It was so close to Silicon Valley and all the new technology, but San Francisco managed to feel like most of it stopped again in the 60s. It sounded like a clich?, but it was true. As long as they stayed away from the more updated downtown with tall buildings and big business, anyway. On this trip, they were going to avoid tall buildings at all costs. Sarah had booked their room at the Red Victorian Inn at 1662 Haight Street, San Francisco, CA 94117. She was giddy to find that “Flower Child Room” was available during their stay, which was to be a few days longer than most places so they could hit up Wine Country for a day as well. After the more-than-six hour drive, they parked the Jeep and lugged their bags the four blocks to the hotel. “Haight Street hasn’t changed,” Sarah said. “Not in about 40 years, no,” Nick told her. The place was totally decked out, hippie-style, from the Peace Caf? to the Peace Arts Gift Shop. Its owner is Sami Sunchild. Every room had a theme, and the prices were reasonable for all rooms. Some rooms had shared bathrooms, but the “Flower Child Room” had its own. After they checked in, they went to their room and put their things down without looking at the floor. “It’s like the 60s threw up in here,” Nick said. “But in a really good way.” Sarah sat down on the bed and picked up a book on the nightstand. “This book is by someone called ‘Peace Pilgrim’”, she said. “We’re so reading some of that after we eat.” They changed into clean—but suitably Haight-Ashbury casual—clothes and headed out for the pizza that Sarah had been craving for 5 years: Cybelle’s Pesto Pizza, extra pesto. They sat by the window, eating their pizza, sipping sodas, and watching the world go by. It was the greatest world to watch. At one point, a man stopped in front of the window to pee. Nick and Sarah laughed, but not until after the man walked away. For some reason, they didn’t want to offend him. Then they walked up the street, away from the park, to do a little shopping and look around. They went into the smoke shop Pipe Dreams, where Sarah bought a replacement t-shirt for one that an ex-boyfriend had taken. It was a colorful tie-dye that said “Marx & Lennon” on it, with images of Groucho Marx and John Lennon. She put it on in the store. They also stopped in at Skates on Haight to get new inline skates (and pads and helmets) for both of them. They wanted to skate in the morning. After getting back to the hotel and showering off the dirt of the day, they got into bed and Nick read to Sarah from “Peace Pilgrim: Her Life and Works in Her Own Words”. Then they snuggled in for a good night’s sleep. The next morning they got up and drank fair trade coffee while engaging in one of the inn’s famous “Breakfast Conversations”. It was how Sarah imagined an AA meeting would be, only without the smoking. Then they went to the Embarcadero, got into their brand-new inline skates—and all protective padding, of course—and skated until their legs were tired. There were tons of people out—probably because it was early, before work hours—jogging and walking and skating. They breathed in the ocean air, racing each other part of the way, then slowing down, then racing again. The view was gorgeous, and the only disappointment was the Ghandi Memorial, which was kind of tucked behind the ferry building. It seemed that, in hippie-land, they would show more respect to Ghandi. After showering and changing, they got in the Jeep and programmed Bob the GPS for Dianne’s Old and New Estates at 2181 Union Street, San Francisco, CA 94123. When they realized that they would be right near Russian Hill, they decided that they HAD to drive down Lombard Street together. They had both been on it before, but they wanted to share the Crookedest Street in the World together. Then they went to Dianne’s. It was full of both new and old jewelry. The salesperson, a woman who was so nice it was almost painful, helped Sarah pick out rings. “How do you guarantee rings that aren’t new?” Sarah asked as she noticed Nick get into a conversation with a man about watches. The woman handed Sarah an Edwardian-style ring with lots of little stones around one large diamond. “We guarantee all of our work, and, with older jewelry, we’ll always do our best to fix anything that breaks, or falls out. We have some of the finest craftspeople working with us.” The woman paused. “I don’t think this one is right for you, but I’ll leave it out, just in case.” She placed it on top of the case and got a real antique ring. It was so ornate, with hand-carving in the gold and colored stones that Sarah almost found it busy. She tried it on anyway. She smiled at the woman. “It feels different, wearing something so old. Very cool.” “It is,” the woman responded, “to know that you have on a piece that no one else can possibly have.” Nick was now trying on watches that the man was now bringing out of a case. The woman smiled. “That’s Charles,” she said. “He’s one of the owners, and he can talk about watches all day.” So Sarah took her time, trying on funky art-deco rings and modern emerald-cut and princess-cut diamond rings. After an hour or so of chatting with the woman and trying on everything within reach without feeling pressure to buy, Sarah said she needed to think about it and grabbed Nick. They were sure to take a business card on the way out because they people were so nice and they wanted to figure out how to make online shopping feel that personal and pleasant. After their engagement ring experience, they headed for Golden Gate Park. The wanted to have the whole day to walk around, chill out, and roll around in the grass. They put the Jeep in the lot by the hotel, then walked to the panhandle of the park. When they got to the main part of the park, they could hear the drum circle that was surely at Hippie Hill. They walked by, but didn’t stop because there were some sketchy-looking people there. It wasn’t all happy hippies. Nick and Sarah both wanted to see the Conservatory of Flowers, so they cut across and went in. “Let’s go see the orchids,” Sarah said to Nick. So they started at the Highland Tropics exhibit and moved to the Aquatic plants, backtracking to the Lowland Tropics. “Potted plants interest you much?” Nick asked. “Not today. Too much else to see,” she responded. They walked hand-in-hand to the Japanese Tea Garden, where they were overwhelmed by the Temple Gate alone. They checked out the pagoda and a few statues, then sat by the pond, took off their shoes, and relaxed on their backs, watching clouds go by. Nick reached for Sarah and put his hand on her shoulder. “Why are Japanese gardens always so serene?” He asked. “I think we’re not supposed to know.” She told him. They returned to silence and watching the clouds. After a while, they walked around Stow Lake, and explored as much of the park as they could. Every time they encountered an incline, Sarah would run to the top, lie on her side, and roll down. Then she’d yell for Nick until he did it, too. Sarah had a thing about rolling down hills. They were both covered in grass and laughing when they left the park to return to the hotel for a nap before dinner. That night, at the urging of a friend from college who had been to Amsterdam, they had reservations at Supperclub, which was supposed to be one of those funky, performance-art kind of places where they served you dinner on a bed. It was one of four around the world, with the others in Istanbul, Singapore, and, of course, Amsterdam. Nick and Sarah dressed up again, with Sarah back into her trusty red Susana Monaco dress and Nick in black pants and a button-down shirt. When they arrived at 657 Harrison Street, SF, CA 94107, they were surprised. It didn’t look like much from the outside. When they got inside, they realized that they weren’t there to be seen, or to see any of the other guests. They arrived and were greeted by the host, a very attractive drag queen called “V”. The music was mostly electronica and chillout, the lighting was pink, and their table—or, rather, bed—was dressed in white sheets. As they got onto their bed and ordered drinks, something called ‘a night with Beirut’, a trapeze artist was performing in the center of the room. “She’s really amazing,” Sarah said loudly, over the music. “She truly is. Are we on drugs?” Nick asked. “I don’t think so,” Sarah said. “It just feels that way.” A few dancers moved around the room, and a guy made his way by, moving his body in seemingly-impossible ways. Their food arrived in courses, but Nick and Sarah didn’t seem to eat much. As Sarah reached for a lamb chop and was bringing it to her mouth, a man in a blue bunny costume hopped by the bed. She looked at Nick without moving. He was looking back. “Yes, babe, that just happened.” Nick reassured her. Sarah put her head on Nick’s chest. “I’m so glad we’re not high,” she told him. “No kidding, right?” He took the lamb chop from out of her hand and fed it to her.
With the music seeming to come from inside their own heads, they felt like they were alone in their own circus. As they started on another round of ‘a night with Beirut’, a woman dressed in leather came over with a paddle. They somehow wordlessly consented to being paddled, and the woman went on her way. Nick and Sarah reclined again and watched as a woman began to sing in a way they had never heard before. It was hypnotic—so much so that they almost didn’t notice the naked guy. Beginning to feel the effects of their time with Beirut, Sarah laughed. “That guy is totally naked!” She yelled over the music and singing. The more they drank, the more Sarah wanted to dance. The music was still inside her head, and she couldn’t stop table-dancing—or bed-dancing, as the case was. Forsaking the shoes she had removed before climbing onto the bed, she went to the dance floor and started dancing alone. Soon she was joined by a few of the performance artists. Then other patrons started trickling out and Nick could just see her arms, raised over her head as she danced. He smiled as he watched her hands move with the music. He knew she was as happy as she ever had been. Sometimes, the crowd would part enough and she would look back at him and smile, waving and dancing with the freaks and the artists that she so loved. Eventually, Nick joined her and they danced until Supperclub closed. Back at the hotel, they again kicked off their shoes in the “Flower Child Room”, and curled up together. The still had the beat of the music in their heads and they let it carry them. It was the best night of the trip so far in some ways. “Something about San Francisco makes everything seem okay and normal,” Sarah said as she snuggled up against Nick. He kissed the top of her head. “Even you seem normal here, babe,” he said. And they went to sleep, with the cool San Francisco breeze—and the faint scent of patchouli—filling the room.
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