I'm writing this from San Francisco, in the cosmopolitan outdoor shopping mall known as Union Square. How cosmopolitan, you ask? Let's just say that I'm typing while sipping a double macchiato and gazing into a central courtyard flanked by Macy's, Saks and Williams-Sonoma in which an industrial crew of 10 unfortunate Mexicans install lights on a giant Christmas tree. Did I mention they have wireless internet access throughout the outdoor square? Or that I haven't seen a black person since landing three days ago?
I should mention that within this context, by "cosmpopolitan" I mean "faux-suburban."
San Francisco is a great city to visit if you're a straight guy like myself. It's the only city in which I can flirt my way out of a speeding ticket and women actually like it when you look at their breasts. Women here look at a straight man the way a starving man looks at a pint of double fudge - with that particular mix of longing, greed, and desperation that lets you know as long as you have a pulse, she's interested. It's nice to be objectified.