Five Things You Might Be Doing Wrong in San Francisco

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1. Taking Van Ness Instead of Gough or Franklin

Unless you are actually going to one of the commercial spaces on Van Ness Avenue, there is really no reason on God’s green earth for you to be taking what is consistently the most trafficked thoroughfare in SF. After all, it’s the part of the 101 Freeway that turns into a surface street through one of the biggest cities on the West Coast. If you are looking to go north or south at any time other than the very wee-est hours of the morning, do yourself a favor and hop on one of Van Ness’ chiller, sluttier cousins. They’ll let you go all the way to The Marina or The Mission (whichever’s your preference) with significantly less fussiness.

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2. Thinking Yellow Cab Doesn’t Remember You Flaking on Them

Look. We aren’t really a “cab town”. Trying to catch one on a busy weekend night is  infuriating, and waiting on hold with Yellow Cab whilst you listen to that creepy house music can be equally maddening (although it is kind of funny because they’re all like ‘let’s get this party started with ambient electronic music’). Notwithstanding, if your drunk ass has flaked on them one to many times they one hundred percent have you pegged as a deadbeat and will make it all the more difficult to get picked up. Furthermore, it’s foolish to think they don’t know which party houses in the Mission and Western Addition have the highest frequencies of no-shows either. We all know about the ratings on Lyft and Uber, so it goes without saying that you should follow up with them, but these guys have been at it much longer so don’t make yourself a pariah and at least call back to let them know you’ve left before they got there.

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3. Leaving Town in October

Not to mention the fact that Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, The Treasure Island Music Festival,  AND Halloween reside in this orangey month, October is also home to the nicest weather we get all year. It’s kind of like the El Dorado that keeps us going  throughout the inconsiderately cold summer. But man, when it hits, there’s really no comparison. Everybody basically phones it in at work and is collectively concerned with simply being outside. Also, everyone’s drunk, and that, too, seems to be tacitly approved by any semblance or authority residing in SF in the first place. Once I was walking with some buddies on one of those truly epic afternoons and decided to just ask random people if they had been drinking that day. My first subject, like the true cross-section he proved to be, thought to himself for a moment and calmly replied, “yeah…I guess a little”. It was a Wednesday at 3:30 pm.

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4. Going to the Baker Street DMV without an Appointment

I suppose using the term “Baker Street DMV” is a misnomer because there is only one DMV that begrudgingly serves the entire City and County of San Francisco. I live nearby and have honestly seen queues that would make a Communist breadline look sexy. However, the crazy part is the fact that you don’t necessarily have to do it that way. If you have even slightest ability to be flexible with your time, just make an appointment online and allow your troubles to slip away as you walk in like you own the place–past all those suckers who didn’t think twice to use the Internet. There’s still a mild wait, but it’s nothing compared to gulag outside. In fact, I just checked the next appointment available. It’s for tomorrow at 9:10am.

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5. Showing Up to 6:00pm Yoga at 5:55pm

In all honesty, I’m not the biggest yogi on the planet. In fact, I will usually only do yoga as some form of self-imposed penance from the weekend’s debauchery or as a hail-Mary move to smooth things over with the girlfriend. However, from my limited experience I have gleaned that unless you want to be stuck getting smacked in the face by the shirtless creepy guy that everyone else has already radiated away from, you better plan on getting to that yoga class at least 15 minutes early. San Francisco is a town where yoga is as culty as it is ubiquitous, and one always should take this into account when planning one’s life-affirming athletic appointments.

Photo Credit: Transit Nerds (Flickr), Erin Sherbert (Sfweekly), Sam Tweedle (Popcultureaddict), Ellen Huet (Sfgate), Stephen Jackson (Memegenerator)

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About the author

Stephen Jackson - In Therapy

For the most part, Stephen wanders around looking for people to talk to. Born in Manhattan and raised in Santa Monica, he's been cultivating the skill of living large on a dime since he began hoarding his juice boxes in preschool. Currently, the majority of his time is spent raising a dog and feigning wealth.