A Day In The Tenderloin

Photography by my good friend Chelsea Rae Cole. More pics by Chelsea can be found at her flickr page here.

'Sus Me, For Sale

For a few years, I’d always see this little old Russian lady walking around selling stuff. I assumed she was Russian because she had this cute floral head scarf on that she’d tie underneath her chin. Sometimes she’d have a cart she’d pull behind her, but more often, she’d have a few things clutched to her body in her hands that she was peddling. As I walked by, she’d stop and say, “Sus me, for sale.” The word ‘sale’ would take its time leaving her mouth, as she held out an object in my direction. Sometimes it’d be food, a kit kat, or canned beans. Other times she’d have dishes… saucers and teacups. I’d think about her, and now that I haven’t seen her for a year, maybe longer, I still think of her. Where did you go? I haven’t seen you for awhile, I think I miss you.

Mirtille

A new café on McAllister between Leavenworth and 7th, in the Civic Center. Went in to check it out, cause hey, I like cafes! You can check them out here. What I’m looking for in a café is yummy food in a cozy place. First thing I see on the windows outside is words. Their concept, to be sure, explicitly written out, words like pure, simple, taste. I saw something like this recently, I wrote about it in my HipsterBikeRack post. In that case, they had spray painted a little bike symbol underneath said bike rack for the sole purpose of illustrating for us Tenderloinites exactly what this new foreign object is supposed to be used for. We might be new to up and coming trends entering our neighborhood, but we’re not that dumb! When I saw these words painted on the windows, I was reminded of our new bike rack… Duh, me live in Tenderloin, me not know what this is.

When you get inside all you see is purple, everywhere. Walls, seats, counter, all purple. It was purple overkill, and I like purple. The lamps are silver. It’s like they missed the boat for what’s modern. If they had opened in the late 90’s their décor might be considered modern. As for one of the criteria of a café being cozy, I didn't think it was.

On to the food...



I grabbed a ham and cheese sandwich. My sandwich was tiny, and almost non-existent. I paid 3.80 for it, and I got a tea. A tea, from a bag, which I‘m not opposed to, but they got it from Leland Tea Company, who actually sells loose-leaf tea. My total was up to around 10 bucks with tax. My sandwich was good, just pretty small for the price, when you can get a real life size sandwich at Saigon Sandwich for a little bit cheaper even. It’s not like I’m morbidly obese and need a crap load of food to fill up, but if you were actually hungry, I would try a salad instead. My friend joined me, she had a salmon and cream cheese sandwich, and when she got to the table, she had with her a chocolate souffle! Chocolate’s the way to my heart, and this dessert was yummy, and not tiny. Just the right size for the two of us to share.



The coziness level, and yummy food levels, weren’t that great for me, plus they aren’t open on weekends. The dessert was good, but the place didn't hit the spot. I’d rather head to Leland Tea Company, on Polk and Bush, to get their tea sandwiches and loose-leaf tea.

Traumatized

The two blocks I walk after getting off the bus on my way home from work are traumatizing. Tonight at 10:30 pm I hop off the bus and cross Van Ness on Eddy. There are drug dealers to my left. A homeless man singing to himself while shuffling along to my right. And here I am, waiting for the light to turn green to cross the street, and walk the last block home. There's a man in the crosswalk headed my way. He's got both of his hands on his belt buckle? He's messing with it so much, I look harder...I quickly learn that it's not his belt buckle he's got in his hands, it's his penis! He's stumbling across the street headed my way, with his penis in his hands! I try to look down the street, at the lamppost, the crosswalk signal, the cars, anything that will draw my attention in any other direction besides staring at this penis headed my way. He stumbles past me to a spot behind a van and points himself in the direction of the tree. He's super drunk, and obviously had to pee pretty bad, so bad he was ready for half a block more than he needed to be. I've seen way too much of other people while living here.

An Apple A Day

I was walking home from downtown, as I often do. In front of me two men had stopped to talk to a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk. He had his leg out in front of him, and proceeded to roll up his pant leg. I knew what was coming. I had seen something like this before. I tried my hardest not to look. I even shielded my eyes from the impending horror. But as I drew nearer, my eyes had a mind of their own, they wanted to see. I told myself not to look, but it was useless.

I was upon the scene. The homeless man had a huge bump on his leg from knee to ankle with a gash on it. It was fresh my friends, very fresh, as the blood had not coagulated yet. The men had immediately handed the guy a dollar, it was like a freak-peepshow. He needed a doctor, and as I walked by, getting my peep in for free, I heard them telling him so. I was grossed out for a few more blocks, thinking that they probably shouldn’t have given him the money, since it may instigate the situation. I thought, he’ll never go to the doctor, instead he’ll just keep reopening the wound, over and over again, grossing people out to make a little cash.

Community News

Sunday Streets coming to a street near me, and maybe you too. Sunday Streets, essentially a block party, is coming to the Civic Center/Tenderloin area August 14th 11-4, there's a map of the streets that'll be blocked off here. Looks like they'll have more information about what's happening soon. Looks exciting! Get outside, walk around, see the neighbors! I'll post some pictures if I get a chance to go for a stroll that day. Also, I'm working on a blog that I'm finding pretty interesting, but it's taking a minute, worth the wait, I think.


Update: I took some pics!







And a video too!

The Alarm That Cried Fire

Later that same night…

At half past midnight there came a rapping at my door.

“Fire department.”

I sprang from the couch to investigate. As I flung open the door, there was a man donning the appropriate attire to legitimize this claim. Then there was me, in my pajamas, with stars on my pants. On sale from Victoria’s Secret, but that’s besides the point. He gave me a once over, he glanced down at me, furrowing his brows he spoke, “There’s been a report of a fire in the building, let’s go outside…”

I knew what he was thinking. He’s pissed because the fire alarm has been sounding for at least a good, I’m gonna say, eight minutes, and he thinks I’m the dumb one for hearing the alarm and ignoring the universal warning that there’s a fire.

But what he didn’t know, is that I’ve lived in this building for seven years, on this floor. What he didn’t know, is the first time the fire alarm sounded in the first year I lived here, I left the building, into the cold night air, waited as the firemen traipsed upstairs under the weight of their gear, only to discover that there was no fire. What he didn’t know, and I did, is that this has happened a handful of times, and always in the middle of the night.

What he also didn’t know, is that I was awake writing about the bum who had woken me up screaming bloody murder, and because of this, I heard the person stumble down the stairs, pull the fire alarm, on my floor, and continue to stumble down the other flight of stairs, into the night, to leave the rest of us behind to be judged for our pj choices, and for not leaving the building.

As I told the fireman, “okay," I closed the door and locked the deadbolt. Instead of leaving the building, I went back to the couch, peeked out the window to see a crowd of firemen huddled together outside. I decided, there would be no restful sleep for me tonight, so I closed the laptop, and climbed into bed anyway. Laying there, under the covers, in my bed in the closet, next to the hall, I started to drift off to the beat of firemen descending the stairs, dreamily I thought…NO, fire alarm, I will not be leaving the building tonight, because you’ve cried fire one too many times.

The next day this was posted outside my building…


However, if I do happen to die in my sleep, because of smoke inhalation, or because I’ve been burned to a crisp, you’ll all know why.