Farewell to San Francisco, the Sucka Free City

My whimsical fourteen month affair with San Francisco has come to an end. My time in The City was marked by, among other things: three and a half months of sharing a small studio apartment with the only two friends I had in The City initially, a couple, mind you; thousands of cold calls to sell third party logistics services; Folsom Street Fair, with plenty of public "hj's" and weights hanging from stretched out ball sacks, and Bay-to-Breakers, where I pranced around as a sparkly rocket ship throughout the Panhandle and learned that it's difficult to decipher between the "normal" people of The City and the thousands of crazies; boogie boarding and bonfiring at Ocean Beach; biking up hills that I would have never previously tried to bike up; dancing to the music of a thirteen-piece disco band at Mezzanine and to the tunes of Radiohead in Golden Gate Park; and drinking many a bottle of "Two Buck Chuck" and eating special banana bread that is easy to come by in a place where medical marijuana cards abide. I am sad to leave the city that has allowed me to redefine my boundaries and to walk to the beat of a crazy drum, and I am sad to leave behind my friends who have become like a family to me; however, I have had more than my share of cubicle life, and my travel bug must be satiated. And so, I am off to South America.