I woke up this morning hungering for the sun and a hike, leaped out of bed, and went on my way. Now that I’m remembering and writing this, I very well may have left the cat in my room and the window wide open. I also didn’t pack too well – a (rotten, it was revealed) mango, a stubby serrated knife, my brother’s stained and lumpily shapeless sweatshirt, nothing important or helpful in any practical way.
But me and my knife made it to Muni, and, eventually, North Beach, that sunny den of strip clubs and teeteringly skinny old women, Caffe Trieste and parrots and warm, oiy food. I barely found the little spot I’ve been hunting for for months – Jack Early Park, a tiny round of concrete at the end of some real steep, treelined steps.
“Park” might be an overstatement – two benches and enough stretch-out room for three people and a rotten mango make the place really cozy. But the view(most of the Bay and North towards Marin), the smell (good weed being smoked somewhere very close by), the sun, and the sounds (none) make the “park” worth the trek.
Jack Early Park
Pfeiffer & Grant
Photo credit: Kevin Y.
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