I met an honest-to-God Bay Area unicorn a couple days ago.
Not the founder of a billion-dollar start-up.
Not a data scientist.
Rather, a person — whose name, gender and profession I will never reveal — who lives in an apartment in San Francisco that A) was not inherited from a family member and B) costs less than $1,500 a month.
As I contemplate my own real-estate turmoil (the subject of an upcoming email, provisionally titled, “F It, We’re Moving to Emeryville”), this made me wonder:
What is my mythical creature made real?
Is it exchanging proximity for space?
Is it prioritizing a sustained and adventurous relationship? Our in-house sexpert says it’s possible. I hope she’s right.
Is it getting the most out of this season our countrymen typically renown for its warm weather and clear skies? Because we have some suggestions for how to do that, too.
We’ll get there. In September.
Personally, I was planning to take the rest of the commonly-understood-to-be-summer and focus on my unicorn: what I want, and how to get it.
But first, a clarifying incident:
I’ve mentioned previously that the only place I’ve ever seen anyone smoke crack, or hang a bare bottom outside a moving vehicle’s window, was on the number 22 bus.
Last week, on the way back from Emeryville, being a die-hard fan of public transportation, I took the 72 bus down San Pablo to BART.
I had $2.
There’s nothing quite like being 10 cents short on your fare for a public bus.
After a moment of flailing around, taking four pennies out of my pocket, dropping them on the floor, picking them up, and then telling the driver, “I don’t think these are mine,” I gave up. “I don’t think I have the fare,” I said. “Should I get off?”
“If you can’t pay the fare, you just pay what you can, honey,” she said.
When I think unicorns, I think stuff I want.
A billion-dollar business.
An apartment that is not a box truck.
Or just a small act of kindness. Maybe what I already have is quite enough.
Your SF-to-East Bay editor
At top: The $20,000-per-month condo at 74 New Montgomery.