It's the People

I thought I was on an M Train, but it turned out to be a train that doesn't go where I need to be. So I get off at Church Street Station, a stop early and start hiking up towards 21st and Castro. It's a hike, straight up a big hill--a San Francisco hill. I am enjoying it though and when I arrive I see my subject sitting on the steps, wearing his bike gear and holding his road bike. I wave and instantly start shooting photos. I am talking the whole time. I ask him about his trip. How long did it take to ride 2,979 miles across the United States? I ask him about tires, weather, camping and fatigue.

When I finish the shoot, I start to break down my lighting gear and he says "I want to show you something." He walks upstairs and then reappears with a triptych of his grandfather, his father, himself and his son, all with bicycles. I ask to shoot some more photos and he is thrilled that I asked. I love these shoots. The walk down the hill is much easier and I am practically skipping.

Junkies, Dealers and Psychos! Oh My!

My office is located in one of the worst neighborhoods in San Francisco. On an average day it's not uncommon to see someone smoking crack, shooting up, dealing drugs, drinking booze, going to the bathroom or getting arrested.

On the sidewalk you can peruse an assortment of items for sale from desperate souls. Stolen bicycles, packs of cigarettes, batteries, cases of Ensure and pornography. Every once in a while the police roll by in a paddy wagon van. The driver, wearing blue surgical gloves (I assume to keep the filth off his hands) leans out the window and slowly drives by before turning onto the sidewalk. It's a warning signal. The coherent ones scatter like roaches. Others don’t notice or don’t care and the police make a few arrests, leave and then 10 minutes later the leftovers scurry back and resume operations.

I am heading through the cesspool to my car. I need to run an errand. I need to pick up a modeling light for a flash. I step out into the street and while walking towards my car I stumble across something. I turn around and look at the ground and see that I just tripped on a yellow flip-flop sandal. I look back up just in time, as a full bag of clothing hits me in the chest. I then see a crazed woman cursing at me, "mother!#$!@ don’t step on my stuff bitch." She continues calling me names and generally howling at the moon. I rush past her as she goes to collect her bag and clothing. I hustle to my car and drive away; just another day in paradise.