surreality

Las Vegas is a surreal place. A bombardment of colors, heat, noise, cigarettes, booze and people, people, people of every kind, shape, age and persuasion. Think the Disneyland Electric Light Parade as interpreted by meth-heads. In a way.
And though I thoroughly enjoyed myself over the weekend with the gals - pretty much a weekend is plenty of time to spend there. I can't imagine being a local.

Last Sunday afternoon, whilst waiting for the bus home from the BART station, I found myself looking around at all my fellow San Franciscans. Having spent the previous 36ish hours in the surreality that is Vegas, I couldn't help but think to myself, "Wow. People in San Francisco are so NORMAL."

And then a hippie on a tall bike rode by down Market street...thus restoring the universe to its upright and locked position.