I knew, back when I booked my ticket to SF to visit my newest nephew, that a trip out of town and Ragnar on back-to-back weekends was a terrible idea. I knew it would result in every potential client I’ve ever had waking up with a spontaneous desire to buy and/or sell a house some time between February 17th and the 26th. But it was an unavoidable catastrophe. There was a baby who needed some cuddling and I couldn’t stay away.
So yes. I’m up to my ever-greying hairline in short sales finally getting offers after a month of silence, signings, closings, final walk-throughs and showings. Plus, of course, jet lag, a cold, a kid with an on-going, mysteriously sick stomach and last minute preparations to run 18 miles of a 200 mile relay race over 36 hours. It’s a party over here in this hiz-ouse.
The trip was, however, totally worth the chaos I’m currently living. I learned so very, very much. The highlights:
1. Public transportation is really no biggie. It’s amazing how quickly you become desensitized to both hurtling down the street at breakneck speeds in a creaking, shaking bus and sharing personal space with people from all walks of life. Plant those feet wide, hold tight to a railing and your purse and don’t make eye contact unless completely unavoidable. And carry exact change for the bus at all times.
2. Just because someone standing directly outside your hotel room door at 3AM says to his companion loudly enough to wake you up, “Don’t forget to check your mattress before you go to sleep. There might be a dead body in it.” it doesn’t mean you’ll completely get murdered if you continue to stay in that hotel. You may not sleep that great, but you might live through the experience.
3. You know how they say if you want to estimate your maximum heart rate you can start at 220 (if you’re a woman) and subtract your age? Well either that estimate is not particularly accurate or the term ‘maximum heart rate’ doesn’t actually refer to the heart rate you have just before it gets so high you die, because I exceeded my estimated maximum heart rate at least twice while running in SF. In related news, SF is sort of ‘hilly’.
4. The best sandwich ever made involves salmon, a fried egg, pickled carrots, Sriracha aioli and thinly sliced jalapenos on ciabatta. No really, it does.
5. It’s not referred to as ‘The BART’. It’s just ‘BART’. It’s also apparently gauche to talk on your cell phone while riding BART. If you commit either of these crimes against humanity and good taste within earshot of my brother he will sigh, roll his eyes and chuckle uncomfortably about how embarrassing you are; so just be prepared.
6. Someone should totally do a Kickstarter project to light the San Francisco Bay and make walls of windows along the path of BART so passengers can see into the water like it’s an aquarium as they ride under the bay*. I mean, right? I would totally buy into that one.
7. And most importantly, my new nephew is really effing photogenic:
Doncha think? I already miss the little ginger devil. See you soon, Henry.
*If anyone decides to use this idea they should probably give the royalty money to my sister because she totally thought of it.