Critical Mass: When Bikes Take Over the City of San Francisco!

My city is one unique place. Living in San Francisco I often feel as if I am in some protective bubble shielded from Bushian America. In this city, it is as if things like conservatism and the hideously arranged suburbs do not even exist. When I pass by Mitchell Brothers, I know I am in San Francisco. When I stroll through the Castro or hear the rumble of streetcars down Market Street and Cable Cars along California Street, I know I am in a place superior to most others in North America. When I step out of my front door and walk half a block to Valencia and I notice that people and bikes occasionally outnumber cars, I know I am in the Mission District, only in San Francisco.�

I often wonder what tourists think when they come here. It is next to impossible to escape from the fact that San Francisco should not be part of, nor does it resemble any other forty-nine square miles of, the United States. Every other traffic sign in town has some political statement pasted to it. The best is the "BUSH" sticker slapped right below the "S-T-O-P." Every other telephone poll has a flyer stapled on it with information on how to join The International Socialist Organization or where to convene for the next anti-war action or what your rights are during encounters with the police. This city must have more bookstores selling the titles of "radical" left wing authors than any other, even Berkeley. On a stretch of Valencia spanning a mere three blocks or so, there are at least four such outlets I can name off of the top of my head. Even the McDonalds' advertisement on the bus stop at 18th and Guerrero is not immune; right below the out-of-scale picture of a Big Mac is the word "shit" written in black Sharpie. I love this place more than words can express.