There were jobs to be had because kitchens paid shit and people quit in the flash of anger. I ended up making poached eggs in the Castro.
In the afternoons, I’d grab some grassy knoll in Dolores park. But it was cold. The people I knew worked two jobs, sometimes three, unless they sold pills. I wanted the job one of our roommates had with the Canadian animal-less circus, washing dishes for staff meals. But it never happened.
The one thing, the best thing about the place was a now long closed taqueria the size of a postage stamp that served burritos with a clay pot full of water and radishes. I was a vegetarian only because that burrito cost the least and fed me for a day and a half. And remembering a line my old man told my mother- stick with me kiddo, I’ll give you radishes as big as diamonds, made me like the place in a homesick kind of way. It shouldn’t have been any bit of a surprise when I asked for a plane ticket home and he told me to ride the bus.
by Hank Cherry
