real irony.

This is a true story. No names are used, because I don’t know them. If you recognize yourself or anyone you know. Stand up, shout out ‘that’s me!’ Be proud of your irony.

After a day of survey giving at the Mother’s Day Mission Edition of Sunday Streets San Francisco I have had to remind myself that a few bad apples don’t ruin the whole basket. While I met some wonderful folks who gave up their time to answer more than a few questions to help The Great Streets Project better their work in making the streets we walk, bike, shop and roam hubs of civic life; I did speak to a few hands, got blown off by many a blank stare and some stern no’s…I mean really folks it is just a survey,  not trying to get your money to feed starving kids or save the ACLU or even put some referendum to eliminate government water fountains on the ballot. And, even if I was what’s so hard about adding a thank you to your no……remember there is a person on the other side of your thrust out palm..Oh the irony of your yoga pants, canvas bags and bee line to Arzmendi Bakery CO-OPERATIVE was not lost on me lady!

As this is San Francisco there was more wind and more irony to come.

But, before that….that guy who rides that bike with the music playing way loud – you know that guy – made my wind blown survey giving self’s day…with this one

sorry had to post the bad filmed off the tv version.

Ok, back to life in the Mission, back to irony.

Walking back home from a post Sunday Streets BBQ my son and I fought the wind. And, I know it was cold, because my ever warm native San Franciscan son with his shorts, flashy shoes and woolly hat had buttoned up his jacket. On Mission and 23rd we were stopped dead in our tracks as four folks festooned in multiple patterns of ironic finery burst out of a corner store. The woman with heavy bangs, a granny goes to cocktails dress, 3 inch heels and red red lips gasped and pointed, the petite woman in a plaid party dress and mary janes, cat eye glasses clutching a clutch cupped her mouth and the tall guy in the hat said wow…and the gentleman in a the orange plaid suit and white leather shoes and waxed mustache said, “there is no irony in that, that is not an art car, that is the real thing.”

My son and I turned to look and saw a grey car with wooden birds attached to the top drive by. It was something. But, where was the irony. Where?

I love you San Franfreakshow. But, for the record, I do not heart your wind. It is cruel. It makes me feel discouraged and sad, cold and disheveled…and grateful for my clawfoot bath tub.

~m

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~ by asmallfryup on May 8, 2011.

2 Responses to “real irony.”

  1. Thank you. I’d have taken your survey. In fact, email it to me and I’ll take it when..

    • awe thanks dennis! just knowing you are out there fighting the good fight is support!

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