This explains why Rome, Georgia, is the town least likely to have fine dining, and why in the Bay Area we have six seasons. If four is good, six is better. More are planned.
At this time of year it's Early Fall, which means balmy temperatures, far fewer tourists, no hurricanes, and a zero chance of people from Rome, Georgia, roaming our streets.
They couldn't find their way to the buffet anyway.
Two weeks, in fact, till Halloween. I wonder if it will be warm enough for any nudity down on Polk Street. How the locals will combine exhibitionism with politics, which is an inevitable political theme this year, is a mystery. Lord knows I do not want to see any Donald Trump or Marjorie Taylor Green nudes, seeing as I much prefer Bo Peep and Zombies. Last year it was a bit too cold, and while I applauded the die-hards who were determined to show off their trim figures and body paint, there were very few of them, and they seemed insane besides. Maybe it was just the local drug addicts. In any case, it scared the children.
POLK STREET
What I really miss are the Mexican or Latino gentlemen grilling bacon wrapped hot dogs there late at night. The smell was heavenly, and the resultant product divine. Quite illegal, of course, the local health department severely disapproved of it, and San Francisco, as you understand, is all about law and order, so of course eventually there was a crackdown.
And instead of a veritable feast we ended up with as far as I know none.
There is no street food. Street drinks, yes. And pot smoking.
You would think.
No.
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