It's one of those days in San Francisco: the morning was a bit cool and foggy, but as the sun began to burst through the fog, I sought refuge from the wind in the enclosed outdoor area of Cafè Floré, where I feel the sun changing the chemical makeup of my skin. Most interesting here, and most telling, are the people sitting around me.
To my left, a pair of nondescript, middle-aged, but somewhat handsome German businessmen, both wearing pinstriped dress pants.
To my direct right, there is a person whose gender I can't determine, with fuchsia and orange hair, who is apparently Parisian, listening to a flamboyant American guy who is involved in film somehow and has been speaking at length about the wonders of Christina Applegate, and later, Elizabeth Montgomery.
Across from me there's a set of tourists. I know they're tourists because they're speaking a language other than English and taking photos of one another with a small pink camera that has a matching carrying case. I'm not sure what language they are speaking. I think it's German again, but it's hard to hear them over the English being spoken to my right. It's two men and a woman and I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'm curious what their relationship to one another is. One guy is incredibly handsome and looks very familiar to me (but probably isn't), the other guy is not as good-looking but dresses to maximally show off a fantastic body. The woman is pretty but seems out of place, like she thought she was going to be attending a cocktail party. One of the guys shows affection both to the woman and to the other guy.
Next to them is a couple who eat and don't speak and look they're someone's parents. Are they from here? Hard to say, but there's an untouched pack of Marlboro lights on the table.
And the fun part is, it's like this all the time here.
