Unlaborious

Its been hot. Legitimately hot. Usually the sun tries to fight its way through the San Francisco fog like water through oil. It makes it to the ground only in spots. But we’re saying that its been hot enough to sit and drink ice cold drinks all day. The sun has bathed the city in bright and burning light. Just in time for the long weekend that too. The Gods are smiling upon the hills. We gathered at Dolores Park on Labor Day to watch an outdoor performance of the San Francisco Mime Troupe. In classic weather-confused San Francisco fashion I met up with the crew at the corner of 21st and Valencia wearing a woolen V-neck. “Can’t compromise on fashion.” said one of the gang. I stifled a pang of irritation and peeled off the Camel brown sweater. For once, fashion hadn’t at all been on my mind. After standing forever in line at Ritual Coffee I finally walked out with my (rather well done) iced Mocha.

It had been a while since I’d actually felt like picking up my hefty SLR to shoot something. Today I cradled it sans-bag hoping to get a few of the mime troupe. We had perched on a cherry red blanket and an orange print curtain on an unusually steep hillock in the park. A gentleman in a summer hat sat just ahead of us with two daughters. One of them proceeded to roll down the hill rather unceremoniously without any accompanying shrieks of pleasure or any other emotion really, like a log rolling along a river current. The sibling was clearly more vivacious and let out a yelp. “Oh my God daddy, its the perfect rolling hill!”  Onlookers smiled with appreciation. The proud daddy egged her on with a nod of approval. She threw up her hands and a red tshirt, khaki shorts and black sandals deposited themselves at the basin. The surrounding  crowd who was watching the spectacle having lost interest now busied themselves with straightening out corners of blankets, arranging shoes and fishing inside backpacks for bottles of water. As if determined to have the last hurrah, the daddy now rolled down the hill and did so with finer form than his progeny, body straight and silent with alarming speed and finesse his hands held together in a reverent Namaste over his head he was a torpedo of a man. His hat came off mid-hillock only to streamline his movement to a swifter smoother roll. There were murmurs and giggles.

“He’s totally showin off.”

“Awww cute.”

“Whoa! He’s quick.”

The SF mime troupe put on an entertaining yet surprisingly dated show outlining the frustrations of labor organizations. They highlighted the tyranny of the corporation and the irony of the collective. “I’m surprised that there are people who still speak in terms of the labor theory of value” said A as a matter of fact. People cheered as they cussed at banking corporations and urged us to check out noboss.com. “Little do they know, 99 out of a 100 people here are bosses” remarked A now bordering on humorous contempt. Photographing the mime troupe was not allowed. Instead I spent considerable time licking on a pineapple flavored ice-lolly. It’s been at least 10 years since my last one but I was thrilled that I still had it. Suck with passion until all that remains is white ice and then bite it off without ever letting it fall off the stick. Pat.

I photographed the crowd. Which was infinitely more interesting anyway.

The sun had moved and the initial shade advantage we had scored by arriving early abandoned us. I glugged my tetra-pack of coconut water. J sampled some but did not find it to his satisfaction. Sri Lanka is hard to compete with. I resisted photographing the mime troupe still following the rules like a good citizen, nay, temporary worker.

But could resist no longer. Sneaked one in right at the end.

Giddy and happy from the sun, the sugar and the greenery we hobbled back. A wanted gelato and cooed the entire way to Valencia and 22nd about how he will buy espresso and turn it into an improvised affogato. He then used 3 plastic cups and 3 plastic spoons to accomplish the feat, much to my dismay and displeasure. This Labor day was spectacular in that I didnt actually realize that it was going to be a holiday until 4 days before so there was not the frantic plan making and trying to get a spot at Glen Camp before hand. No pressure. Just mild and stretched out languid sun. Plans and activities materializing out of thin air spontaneously but slowly like cotton candy. The hour melting into the next. Sprawling and meandering. Ice lollies, cocunut water and bare feet. Perfect.

Advertisement