After work, one day last week I headed to BART with a co-worker, and insisted upon walking on Mission, in favor of another less populated route. Today, as we sneaked out of the office in search of nourishment, she mentioned an incident that occurred a mere day later, and conceded that my preference for Mission Street might be well-founded.
I responded, "As far as I am concerned, if someone will poop on the street at 9am on 24th and Mission, I don't even want to know what happens on Capp Street."
Perhaps I do have some concern for safety, but it is not so much that I am driven away from Capp by nagging paranoia, as it is that I am drawn to Mission by a need to study the produce lining the street and the people bustling by with no concern for produce.
This post is not, however, so much about produce, as it is about poop. Likewise, it is not so much about life in Oakland, as it is about life in San Francisco. While I am sure there are some who poop on the streets of Oakland, I have not witnessed the evidence of the prolific nature of their excrement as I have in San Francisco. Perhaps this post is nothing more than a musing on something that everybody does - but really only in reference to those who do it in public. I don't know about what goes on in the privacy of your home, and I don't want to share what goes on in mine. I have candles in the bathroom though, and sometimes they do need to be lit. I suppose really is all the same, isn't it?
In San Francisco, I have often had cause to wonder, "man or beast?" while side-stepping a turd. Since dog poop has a certain aesthetic, and human poop has a quite different one, the question is usually rhetorical. I don't think I've ever been given cause to wonder in my own, also flawed, city.
I don't want to get too deeply into the topic of dog poop, but I will say that, for me, the presence of canine excrement on the sidewalk is directly offensive while spotting the hominid variety saddens me a bit more indirectly. Human poop ends up on the street because we do not care enough for our fellow man. It is for the same reason that dog poop is thoughtlessly left to befoul the shoes of unsuspecting pedestrians. Poop may be a fact of biology, but poop on the sidewalk is a symptom of something bigger.
A few weeks ago, I stepped off of the train at 9am and caught a glimpse of a dirty, skinny, wrinkled butt. I did a double take, not quite sure what I had seen. And then, I noticed that - on the corner of Mission and 24th, surrounded by day laborers, commuters, and grocery shoppers - this man was laying a meadow muffin. I am not easily grossed out, so, it was not disgust, but shock that drew my eyes a third time. Yes, that is right - a triple-take.
I resumed my walk to work, and started to process the unusual start to my day. In this neighborhood, so far as my limited glimpses have shown me, the homeless population is a frequently revolving roster of people who have fallen through the cracks. They do not seem to have shopkeepers for friends. While I only saw the back of him, I don't suppose that the man has many decent options for places to poop. It may not well be worth it to him to fork over a few cents to do what comes naturally. I get how it might not seem like there is a point to doing right by a bunch of people who have not done anything to do right by you. It did not shock me that he would poop on the sidewalk. Nevertheless, while I know that when you've gotta go, you've gotta go - it did leave me flabbergasted, that one wouldn't find a less conspicuous place or hour to leave one's mark. But, I'm the one that wears my swimsuit out of the pool and into the gym shower - so what do I know?
