I had grown up in the picturesque Michigan town of Albion. Some have said that Albion was named by the early settlers of 1833 to 1842 for their longing for good old Bonnie England and the white sands that ran below the Kalamazoo River but no such romantic luck. I believe it was someone named Peabody who was considering Peabodyville at the time. Prudently it was reconsidered and thankfully his friend was from Albion, New York suggested the name that everyone agreed too, lucky for us. It was from this lovely small town surrounded by farm lands and lakes that I launched myself straight out of collage to San Francisco. I could have gone east for many reasons as well but the lure of San Francisco's music scene and its European type style had won me over already two years before, but that is another story. I kept hearing its fog horns and city hums calling to me like a far off siren. To say that I was a hopeless romantic, totally unprepared, naive and innocent was an understatement. When my boyfriend of the time kissed me goodbye he played Cat Stevens Baby it's a Wild world for me and told me to listen to the words carefully. Best thing he could have done because no truer words could have been said at that moment.
I arrived in SF with a suitcase, a backpack, childhood sleeping bag and my lute. In my pocket was twenty bucks and a ninety dollar check from the job that I had held at Albion collage before I graduated. I knew one friend and had two weeks to find a place to live and a job according to the rules of her house. The minute I was off the plane a pulse hit me or maybe it was more like a wave of the energy. So many people coming and going with so much noise. I was so grateful for my friend as she hustled me into a shuttle that dropped us off by an electric bus that took us into the Haight/Ashbury where she lived. My eyes were as big as saucers at the explosion of color and art everywhere, on the buildings and shops, the houses and the people, Hippies to Punkers to Suits. "You must be so tired" said my friend taking my suitcase as we walked up about twelve stairs up to the front door that she opened. "Should be pretty mellow today so you can rest." She assured. She let me in to be confronted with more inside stairs like about fourteen or so and the bellowing shout of a man crying out: "Open the door! Open the damn front door!!!
"It is Op...." I was starting to say when we saw a distinct wave of water rushing down the stairs toward us. We quickly managed to get back out the door and stand up on the sides where the planters were and not fall over and down into the street. (We were so agile in those days :) The water quickly rushed by us as a tall early thirties man with long brown hair followed on its heels. "Sorry if I scared you" He said rather cheerily, "but it is very important the water rushes out the door as to not damage the house." "This is something that occurs regularly?" I asked with raised eyebrows "Landlord will not fix a pipe?"
"Oh no no he laughed "It's my water bed. I really need a new and better one. This one has this hole that just will not hold no matter how I patch it and it cannot take the loft anymore."
"You have a water bed in a loft" I was quite incredulous.
"Oh yes, come on up. Here let me take your backpack the stairs might be slick" He lifted the heavy thing off me as if it were nothing and took the stairs two or three at a time and disappeared around the corner. My friend and were about half way up when we are now confronted with an imposing Irish looking girl with a huge poof of fluffy Afro looking hair like a big golden halo about her head, her body is wrapped in a towel yet she is sporting round spec's. I was about to say hello when she exploded with: "That Fucking Blasted Waterbed Again!! I am trying to shave my damn Pussy!! What kind of Idiot has a hole in his waterbed and keeps filling it back up!!" What the HELL!!! "Yeah, be cool man. I thought it would hold up this time." Came the sheepish reply from around the corner as I stood with my mouth open on the stairs. I had never heard such an exchange in all my life.
"Well, you are a cheap stupid Jerk! You about gave my boyfriend a heart attack! He is using a straight edge for God's sake! We timed it between the bus's and prayed for no damn earthquakes and your fucking bed explodes from the loft shaking the whole damn house and I bet you were not even in it! There was silence.
"See!" She bellowed at me then yelled back again pointing toward the silence "A girl should be able to safely have her damn pussy shaved in her own home without fear of major bodily harm! "Asshole!!" she shouted once more in the man's direction "Just be nice to her" came a small whisper from the small of my back.
The ranting outraged Valkyrie stomped off for a moment and returned with what looked like a bottle of whiskey and glared at me anew over her John Lennon spec's. I threw up my hands quickly and said "I totally wholeheartedly agree." She humphed and relaxed her shoulders and said in a more comparably friendly tone of voice: "Well? Why in the hell are you standing on the stairs? You're not planning on banging things around are you? "Oh No no! Both of us chorused. Our eyes wide with perish the thought!"
"Cornelia was going to take a nap. She's from Michigan like me" added my friend coming around me suitcase in hand. "That sounds sensible." She looked at the suitcase and my backpack on the floor "You have two weeks starting tomorrow" "No problem" I nodded.
It was then she took a deep breath and somehow managed to look quite dignified as she strode into her room as we started to as quietly as possible get to my friends room. We froze when out of the open crack of her door we heard "Oh by the way" "Yes?" "Welcome to San Francisco."
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