I was laying around the house a few Saturdays ago, feeling lazy and sore from an earlier trip to the gym. The TV was amazingly uninspiring and my housemates were out running errands, or being social, or just generally doing something constructive with their time. My perfunctory checking of the New York Times website didn't bring anything worth reading to my attention, so I decided to go for a walk. I was going to make my way down to the Bay because, well, you just can't do that in Atlanta or Chicago.

I didn't have any plans for the evening and my housemates were going to the fire arts festival (a taste of arson for $50) so maybe I was just killing time. The Bay is only a few miles away and, if it were a straight shot, it would be a relatively short walk. Unfortunately, it was not entirely clear what street would take me across the railroad tracks and the highway. As I kept hitting dead end after dead end, desperately trying to get around this colossal barrier comprised of warehouses and barbed wire fences, I got lost in my own head. I started thinking about how hard I had worked to get a paying summer job in a city I had never spent any time in and how fortunate I was for being able to spend time with so many interesting and smart people. I was feeling pretty content when my thoughts were interrupted by the view of the Bay and the San Francisco skyline from atop a pedestrian bridge crossing highway 80. I stood in the cool breeze, leaning against the guardrail, and thought that the view alone was worth the trip. Then I turned around and started my long walk back.

Neutral Milk Hotel - "In An Aeroplane Over The Sea"