Naked Girls in the Park? Oh SF, I Love You Too

San Francisco is a jealous harlot and after seething at my blog posts from Texas for four days, she flashed me a little skin to remind me what I was missing.

I'd been back less than 24 hours, and it being a warm, blue-sky day, Scott and I were going for an afternoon run to Kezar, up Buena Vista and back.

We'd barely started, and were waiting at the light to cross Fell into the Panhandle. I was fiddling with my new iPhone armband – even with the new design the earbuds kept falling out of my ears – so I had my head down and barely heard Scott say, "Nice. A little nudity."

Now, I've lived in SF long enough not to snap my head when someone calls out nudity. I've seen enough dongs and old ladies airing themselves out, that I know what to expect. But this was something else, a vision, an epiphany.

She was right there, across the street: A beautiful, tanned girl, ambling through the park completely topless with some hippie guy. Her curly hair piled up on top of her head, she was fit and wore nothing but black spandex shorts, stretching her arms, perky little breasts pointed to the sky. Not a tan line on her. When some other friend came up (I didn't notice if this friend was a guy or girl, young or old, man or beast – I saw nothing but her) she gave whoever it was a big hug.

We're not voyeurs, and we were timing this run. Scott and I ran by the naked little sprite, didn't even slow down.

But she was happy, proud to be alive, reveling in the sun on her naked skin, free. The very spirit of our city, taking a stroll in graceful human form, however ephemerally.

God bless San Francisco.