My friend Jenn is visiting this week.  She lived in SF 15 years ago and walking around her old haunts has pretty much served as the backdrop to our conversations these past few days.  One particular favorite of mine:

I used to take a bus through Chinatown.  One day the bus driver – a late 20s, attractive, black lady – pulled up to a bus stop and a group of people boarded.  At the end of the group was a super-old Chinese lady holding a couple of bags, and a live chicken.  In her hand.  The bus driver immediately stopped her from getting on the bus: Oh no.  No live chicken on my bus.  The old lady didn’t understand and kept trying to board the bus.  And the bus driver kept telling her no: There’s no live animals allowed on the bus.  This went on for a few minutes, keeping all the passengers on the bus entertained with the futile exchange.  Finally a younger Chinese guy translated to the old woman: She says no live animals on the bus.

Oh!  The old lady finally understood.  No problem – she snapped the neck of the chicken and calmly made her way to a seat, past the stunned – and silent – bus driver and passengers.

And – just as a reminder – this was in San Francisco.