Walking to work

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Reading ejjys account of his walk to work reminded me of one of my own.

Part of the time I was a 'Field Service Supervisor' (glorified clerk) at a market research firm in San Francisco I was living in a residential hotel the Tenderloin (where the poor or disreputable lived). In the course of my five block walked to work I walked out of the domain of hookers and dealers, past the ritziest hotel in SF and into masses of tourists and offices workers.

One day I walked passed a doorway that had a bunch of bloody teeth lying in front of it. That day the unthinkable happened. I felt that I'd gotten all I'd wanted out of my years of living in some of the big cities in America and decided to move to North Carolina.

I probably wouldn't have done it if I hadn't thought I'd found the love of my life. By the time she left me I was part owner of a used bookshop and wouldn't trade the freedom that gave me for metropolitan life.

For a few years I had lots of dreams about moving back to Manhattan or San Francisco. Given my shop's location and the kind of people Durham and Chapel Hill have attracted I can still see the kind of artsy, boho folks I used to know. And the rest of the world is easily laughed at from any part of the world with an ISP.

Your feelings?

Please share your feelings about Walking to work.
Thanks,
Richard

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