My Typical San Francisco Day
By: Erica Messner
Tags: San Francisco, Bay Area, Technology, Humor

Co-authored by Amanda Legge and Erica Messner.

Illustration by Carlos Gamero Morales

I awake to the barking seals of Fisherman’s Wharf at precisely 10:34 a.m. After scrolling through Reddit from my bed with one sleepy eye, I head to the bathroom to drink some fresh Hetch Hetchy water straight from the sink. I look outside. It’s sunny, like it always is, and foggy, like it always is. I put a flower in my hair, walk down the wide front steps of my house, and wave good morning to my neighbors, Mary Kate & Ashley.

Then, I hop on the cable car, which I take all the way to Blue Bottle Coffee. Here, I wait in line behind 30 other people for a hand-poured, drip coffee, which I pay 17 dollars for. I use these precious minutes in line to check Product Hunt and read through Launch Ticker to make sure I didn’t inadvertently miss any big start-up or V.C. updates while I was sleeping. I make sure my AirPods are in tight and the music is bumping extra loud so that I can barely hear my name when my coffee is ready. Once I’ve got my coffee, I hop on a Bird scooter to go the remaining block to my downtown office.

My office is full of natural light and ping pong tables, and it even has a speakeasy hidden behind two swiveling library wall doors. We have an open floor plan, especially since our C.E.O. removed the desks last December for a company-wide Nerf gun battle. Now it’s just empty space and innovation. The perfect echo chamber, I like to say. I head to the kitchen, which is stocked with 100 gallons of coffee, a full keg, compostable utensils, and an infinite selection of fruits and nuts. Just like every morning, I grab one of the plump, perfectly ripe avocados to make myself avocado toast.

After work, I meet up with friends at Dolores Park. I leave the office around 4 p.m. to beat the rush hour. Assuming there aren’t any medical emergencies, it’s a pretty quick BART ride. When I get to our normal spot by the playground, my friends have already cracked open a few bottles of Anchor Steam. The truffle man and the pineapple-rum guy are making their usual rounds and I happily consume everything they offer me. As I twirl a blade of grass between my fingers, I stare out over the tennis courts at our beautiful city skyline and think about how lucky I am to live here.

My reflections are soon interrupted by my rumbling stomach, so I head to La Taqueria and El Farolito for a burrito. After that, I call it a night and request a Lyft Line. When my car arrives, I squeeze into the back seat next to my yoga teacher. Serves me right for trying to save $3. We drop the guy in the front seat off at Zeitgeist for his friend’s going away party and then make our way to the Castro where we pick up two charming gay men. We drive over the Golden Gate bridge, past Sutro tower, and up windy Lombard street. I listen to stories about their insecure friend Chodar and the types of guys he likes to go out with, and the ride flies by. As the Lyft Line approaches my delightfully crumbling Victorian house, I thank the driver and say a quick Namaste to my yoga teacher before hopping out. I finish the night by packing my last pair of Allbirds into a box — I’m moving to New York City!