One Rainy Thursday Afternoon

As I wandered along Fillmore St., bundled in my warmest jacket and boots, I could see animosity in the faces of other pedestrians. Some were fighting the pelting rain in their t-shirts, while others sighed in desperation as their umbrellas blew inside-out and became caught in the middle of some invisible tug-of-war with mother nature. Tourists and locals alike might have been happy for the rain to come, but after a few days of it their faces only show annoyance at real weather - something that San Franciscans haven't seen for a few months.

There's a corner where Fillmore St. hits Geary Blvd. that a few busses stop at, and a lot of people stand around on a regular basis. When it rains, the water spreads out on the pavement and in the street; not necessarily a puddle but definitely deep enough to splash. A blue SUV drove by, probably faster than necessary, and the water sprayed onto a few pedestrians. Their faces registered shock, confusion, and then anger and frustration. Once they move to a safer area, a few more people take their places near the wannabe-puddle... and eventually get splashed just like the first group of oblivious people.

Although San Francisco has a rainy reputation, the quick flip from sunshine to sheets of rain always shocks people. I think the true locals in The Fillmore stand out in this weather, though, because whether they're prepared or not they know how to make do with what they've got. One group of people huddled under the bus overhang were obviously tourists, looking at their non-laminated maps, and up at the sky; back at the maps and at the sky again. They might have had yellow rain jackets on but I guess they forgot that rain and glasses don't mix. Until someone invents mini windshield wipers for glasses, they won't be ideal or functional in the rain. The only one saved from having to wipe her glasses every two minutes was the little girl, probably around 3 or 4 years old, holding onto the back of a middle-aged woman's jacket and looking around; fearful but curious at the same time.

Finally, after a day long of work, school, and observation, I walked the seemingly endless blocks back to Pacific Heights - where I'd parked my car. I work at a coffee shop in that neighborhood, and stop by as much as possible to feed my need for caffeine for free instead of spending $5 on what I know costs 50 cents to make. Passing through Pine and California, Clay, Sacramento, Washington and all the other streets that intersect Fillmore St., I was amazed (as always) at the sudden shift in attitude, population, cleanliness, and atmosphere. Instead of old jazz institutions, ethnic bookshops and barbershops, there are now expensive retail shops and fancy restaurants with women in heels and men in ties. The juxtaposition of the two neighborhoods and the fear and curiosity of citizens in each towards those in the other reminded me of the little girl; she was scared of the rain but it was always there and always would be there, it just might take a while to understand it.