On the evening of December 11, 2023, two of my colleagues and I boarded a plane from JFK Airport, and left NYC headed to the AGU conference in San Francisco. After landing in California, we headed to our hotel by train, which actually ended up being on only 2-3 blocks away…
For some odd reason, Google Maps decided to try its hand at comedy, and led us in the opposite direction. It piloted us into a neighborhood known as Tenderloin. Being from Brooklyn in the 80’s & 90’s, I’m rarely frazzled by my surroundings, but I had on flip-flops, a bookbag, and pulled my wheeled luggage behind me, looking out of place in a concrete jungle that jungled differently. The only armor we were shielded with were our awareness and sharp sensibilities. This area was sadly overrun by the homeless, drug addicted, and people with severe mental health issues. One block in, there was a naked woman dancing in a provocative manner while arguing simultaneously with either herself, or a man who looked to be making some sort of dealing with another man standing next to her. A few steps away to our left, there was a man annotating a paper laying on the ground in a box. My mind spun like a tornado breakdancing on a dirty piece of cardboard. The people of Tenderloin were looking at us, and through us, all at once. The streets smelled of trauma and affliction. There city’s puss and urine leaked from the sidewalks of the forgotten. I personally felt vulnerable, but didn’t unlock any pair of eyes that locked with mine. I knew the danger in dropping my gaze. This is the code of almost any inner-city jungle. On the next block, a man who reminded me of my uncle struggling to light a crack pipe. He kept violently hitting it with his hand as if an abusive genie would appear, and grant him the high he’d been chasing. About 10 feet away, as if they were in line, another man cussed at someone who wasn’t there. He went on fervidly about a bike and his keys. This is seeming where San Francisco’s secrets are stored. We walked until we saw an area that looked to be on the cusp of normalcy.
After getting to our hotel, we freshened up, went to dinner, ate cooked food on silverware and breakable plates. I felt like I was somehow part of a silent problem. We left the restaurant (where an elevator was taken to get to), and walked back to our boutique hotel. I took a shower, climbed into an already made bed, and dreamed comfortably while the commonwealth of Tenderloin dreamt out loud, and braved their footing.