Fisherman’s Wharf

If you want a quiet, serene place to contemplate, relax and gather your thoughts to the soothing sound of the bay, this is not the place.

To be quite honest, no San Franciscan truly enjoys Fisherman’s Wharf. It’s a tourist’s mecca. Expensive souvenir shops, gaudy t-shirts, smelly seafood, disgruntled crowds, and yet, they come flocking in.

Don’t get me wrong. This doesn’t mean that it’s not entertaining to perch somewhere to listen and watch.

As soon as I land, a symphony of unidentifiable clamor fills the air. Sea lions sun bathing on the decks, tourists shrieking at the swarm of gulls attacking them for their chowder-filled bread bowls, street performers vying for everyone and anyone’s attention, the shutter-clicks of cameras and iPhones and pre-pubescent teenagers screeching “SELFIE!!” is enough to make even the calmest mallard go cuckoo.

And of course, the infamous Bush Man. He jumps out of bushes and scares the other humans. I don’t know why he does it, but I’m glad he does.

And if you’re still not convinced, the wharf on Saturday makes for good target practice. Lots of heads.