San Francisco: Almost totally charming

Joey and I wrapped up our trip to Sonoma with a one-night stay in San Francisco, a city we’d only heard wonderful things about. A city in California, a place that’s supposed to be sunnier and warmer than Wisconsin. A city that poured rain on us in 50-degree weather while it was an unheard-of sunny and 75 degree day in Wisconsin.

Our romantic trip began with a frantic scramble to find a Walgreens, because after a year and a half, I needed tampons again. I know, way more info than you needed, but too ironic for me not to mention.

It began raining as we wandered the streets of Chinatown looking for Good Mong Kok Bakery, which is known for its great dim sum. The place had a never-ending line and we were the only English-speaking people there, two signs it would be a tasty and authentic meal. We pointed to a few dumplings and some bread and gobbled them up while sitting on a stoop across the street. It was the perfect little lunch.

Cut to two hours later, after we’d squinted through the gloomy haze and rain to kinda, sorta make out the Golden Gate Bridge, when we finally decided to buy a $5 umbrella that broke in approximately 5 minutes.

Still, we pushed on. Pier 39 and the sea lions, Fisherman’s Wharf and awesome-looking clam chowder and crab, walking through puddles because we were already soaked, The Embarcadero, a stroll past Lombard Street, an attempt to hop on an already-overcrowded cable car.

And then it was time for dinner. We flagged a cab to the Castro district, heading to Anchor Oyster Bar in hopes of wonderfully fresh seafood. It was closed.

So we wandered around looking for another place to eat and noticed rainbow flags hanging everywhere. And that the Italian restaurant was called The Sausage Factory (“I will not eat there,” Joey said) and the manicure shop was named Hand Job. And then we laughed hysterically because we realized we were in the gayest part of the gayest city in America, and, because we support people and their preferences, embraced our time there.

Since it was Easter Sunday, the streets weren’t just filled with gay men. They were filled with gay men dressed as the Easter bunny going to the grandest of Easter bunny soirees, where thigh-high boots and extensive hair and make-up are a must. Since it was still raining, these rabbits made comments like, “Fuck, my petticoat is soaked.”

You guys, I SO wanted to take pictures, to capture this surreal, yet entirely awesome, scene. But, clad in our very non-Easter bunny outfits of jeans, tennis shoes and fleece jackets, Joey and I, the only straight people there, already screamed “WE ARE FROM THE MIDWEST WHERE THINGS LIKE THIS DON’T HAPPEN,” and I could not bear to stand out any more than I already did.

Enter cab number two, which took us right back toward our hotel, Hotel Rex, and the Hyde Street Seafood House, where we shoveled in oysters, ahi tuna and butterfish to the point of discomfort.

Exhausted, soaked and freezing, we wandered back to the hotel and popped open a petite syrah from Imagery Winery in Sonoma and drank the entire thing while watching crappy television shows. In all honesty, it was a great night. We couldn’t remember the last time we spent an evening curled up on the couch with a bottle of wine.

The next morning, the sun was shining. On our way to the airport, we drove down Lombard Street, visited the painted ladies in Alamo Square and devoured the amazing, orange-infused morning buns from Tartine Bakery.

So, although it didn’t go down quite as planned, we still hit many of the San Francisco tourist hot spots and ate our way through my well-researched list of Good Food in San Fran. I have to admit, although it was amazing to hold my baby again after days of being away, I’m already looking forward to the next time Joey and I get to sneak away.

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