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San Francisco, Home to the Original Party Park.

April 25, 2013

There is one thing that has remained consistent in my life since moving to san francisco at the age of 14 to start high school, and that has been drinking beer and smokin’ weed in parks. If you aren’t from San Francisco, or have never visited here that probably sounds really fuckin’ homeless. Well, it pretty much is, and over ten years later I’m still doin’ it, and yanno what, I actually DO feel kinda homeless sometimes. Like when I’m drinking a Barefoot Bubbly/Peach Kearns mimosa out of a Giants souvenir cup and the guys next to me are grilling fancy meats on their hibachi and sipping banner year pinot out of stemless wine glasses. Here’s what I have to say to them: Welcome. Welcome to San Francisco. Welcome to the beauty that is party parks. That could be the city slogan: San Francisco, home to the world famous party parks.

Well, it wasn’t always cornhole and Bi-Rite, babies. I’ll tell you that much. In fact, I’m pretty sure no one went to Dolores Park with pure intentions when I was a kid. I honestly don’t remember ever going there. It was one of those places I envisioned strewn with needles, where guys in black hoodies hung out by the train tracks. Basically it was a place that attracted lots of cops, which definitely wasn’t ideal for a bunch of 16 year olds with a warm keg. That place was cutty, but just not cutty enough for the wholesome teens.

In order to party there, the park had to fit 3 qualifications:

1. Really difficult to access, mostly involving bush-whacking and long walks over squishy dirt in the pitch black. Like that random homeless summer camp in Douglass Park, directions go something like this: walk across the soccer field, through the weird trees at the edge of it, go through that loose piece in the chain link fence and you’ll see us by that log!

2. Fucking freezing. Best spots were typically located in the windiest, coldest or dampest spots in the entire city. Randall Hill? Good thing those eskimo jackets with the fur around the hood came into popularity sophomore year so that I could avoid getting wind burn while still being able to withstand the 40-mile an hour gusts on the sheer side of that cliff.

3. Epic views. Unless it was Big Rec or maybe the Lyon Street Stairs, but those places had “stadium seating” which kinda made up for it. A view of SF, combined with the false sense of badass, passin’ a pint of Royal Gate or a Mickey’s 40oz, (or maybe some southern comfort, if you had a part time job) and sharing a blunt with 50 of your BFFs in the middle of the city and getting away with it, that, now that was magic.

So, next time you’re enjoying a craft beer on the privacy of your own Pendelton blanket, just pour a lil’ out for the homies, I like to think we blazed the party park trail for you.

you down with OPP? Original Park Partier’s?

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