Wednesday

You know it's a Wednesday night in San Francisco when you're sitting cross-legged in a late-Edwardian-style sporting costume on the driveway of the parking lot where the French animated film the Triplets of Bellville was just shown to an audience of hundreds of bicyclist enthusiasts, projected on the blank space between windows on a white apartment building wall, and you're eating piping hot, locally grown organic zucchini, poblano pepper and cilantro vegan soup out of a compostable bowl with a compostable spoon while David Bowie's Heroes is playing loud through the speakers mounted on a bike ridden by a man wearing a metallic turquoise raver shirt who happens to be one of the West-Coasts preeminent Flash Mob organizers, and the air is sweet with clove smoke and chai and whatever that smell is coming from the reappropriated taco truck that now serves "French take-away", including frogs and snails, and as you watch your fellow bicycle enthusiasts collect their bikes from the bike parking attendants, you wonder who else is there in a costume and who just dresses like that.

Yep, Wednesday night.