the poopy part of san francisco

We spent the weekend in San Francisco. It was mostly all sunshine and rainbows :-) Delicious food and drinkys, swanky hotel, lots of walking, window shopping, and people watching...

... But some of the trip was pretty poopy... quite literally.

I haven't decided if this is even funny or not, but it is most definitely gross. Consider yourself warned. OK, here goes...

So it all started when Joe and I were looking at renting a condo from a lesbian couple who were originally from San Fran. We asked them to recommend some "non touristy" places to check out, and they suggested Polk Street. I distinctly remember they said be sure to avoid *some part* of Polk Street, which I wrote down on a little piece of paper that I promptly lost.

Well, Saturday morning Joe and I are feeling all spontaneous and decide to head to Polk Street.

We're hip. We're cool. We're fresh. We ain't no tourists!

So we start walking south on Market Street... and walking... and walking... Now we're at Polk.

"Joe, seriously stop pulling that map out every few seconds... you'll blow our cover!!!!"

I'm so distracted by chastising Joe for his excessive map consultation that I hardly notice there are now bars on all of the windows.

We pass a smoke shop, a strip club, a liquor store, a condemned vacant  building, the 57^th homeless person, a woman with oozing open sores all over her body moaning loudly in the threshold of a doorway...

We're REALLY in a bad part of town now. WTF... There was no warning on the map that said ghetto??

And then my tummy starts hurting. Bad.

Maybe I'm just sick to my stomach from the Crack & AIDS in the air feeling incredibly disturbed by all the sadness?? Nope.. that's not it.

"Umm, Joe... I need to use a bathroom."

"Well, honey..." (He pulls out his handy SF map for the seventeenth time.) "We have less than a mile until it should start cleaning up and then we can stop for lunch and use a bathroom."

"Umm, Joe, I have about 2 maybe 3 blocks in me."

Shit! There's nothing around... Now if I just had to #1, I would happily pop a squat in an alley with the rest of the San Fran homeless population.

*When in Rome* right?

However, I do not poopy in alleys.

Joe's walking faster than me now and almost doesn't see me duck into the Taco Bell on the corner. No, not because I am craving a 7-Layer Burrito. I have to go like right meow. I ask the cashier to buzz me into the bathroom. He informs me I'll have to use the men's room because the women's is "out of order".

Whatever, I'm not scurred. I've done my thing in plenty of men's rooms before. I open the door to the bathroom and immediately regret touching the door handle.

The overwhelming stench, OMG... There are blue plaid boxers in the trash... covered in shit. There is literally CRAP smeared all over the walls and there are turds... multiple pieces of human poop... on the floor. In fact, I just stepped on a piece of poopy.

Oh, my poor UGGS!!


You have got to be shitting me!

And the women's restroom is "out of order"?? WTF. What could possibly be worse than THIS?? I mean, short of someone having an abortion in there and clogging the toilet with the fetus, seriously.

I consider running away. Far, FAR AWAY. But then I realize that I probably won't make it without my undies ending up in a garbage somewhere.

I would be lying if I said I didn't seriously contemplate pooping on the floor. Really, it wouldn't have made any difference in the level of filth. However, I play the dodge the human feces game - like Hop Skotch, only more precarious - on my way to the toilet where I proceed to thank my lucky stars for CrossFit.

Yes, I'm an excellent squatter. Not even any splash-age, (thank God!)

No, I will not touch anything in this restroom, not even a seat cover (not that there were any to speak of)...

TMI yet?

Umm okay, I'll skip the rest of the shitty details. mwahahahaha.

But for your future reference, here is a little guide I made for you illustrating the Poopy Part of San Francisco:

*Made in Paint, yes I am skilled... cuz Photoshop is on my laptop for elitists. Click to enlarge and appreciate all the glorious details.

You're welcome.

Anyway, the rest of the day was all sparkles and rainbows and sunshine! Seriously. But this stuff is not nearly as exciting as a poopy Taco Bell.

Joe's "Crab Shack" at Fisherman's Wharf.

Homeless man "fishing" for change from a trash can.

Yes, I took a picture.

Funky car parked downtown.

PS: In case you were wondering, we have since learned that it is "not safe" south of California on Polk. I mean, for future reference and all... cause we just spent two hours of our life there last Saturday. No worries, we survived. It was a poopy adventure wonderful time. I would highly recommend it. To anyone.