I LEFT MY JACKET IN SAN fRANCISCO

   I have to write this tonight because I won't feel this way tomorrow. Today the July fog finally arrived, and it felt magical. Tomorrow it will feel dismal and be as annoying as having a relative who you hate stay with you for the next month. When I stepped outside this morning the cold hit me. Well it actually slapped me in the face, like a big drag queen who had just kicked the sun out of the sky with her huge high heel. "It's me. I'm back."  I didn't get mad or disappointed. I smiled. I was glad to see it, and feel it. I realized there is no other time more than that moment when I feel the first cold wet July breeze that I remember I'm in a place different from all other places, and how lucky I am to be here.
  My first July here was, of course, shocking.  Not that I wasn't warned by my best friend and ex, Scott, who had moved here a few years earlier. Coming from the East Coast, I just didn't believe that any place in America, especially in California, could be so cold in the summer. He made it sound like places on the other side of the Equator. When I arrived here with my dogs in the end of May in 1995, the weather was still beautiful, as it was for the entire month of June. But then it came as Scott had promised. The fog rolled in so thick that I expected pirates to come out if it like in the horror movie 'The Fog ', only these pirates would be gay of course. Every morning I would put on my jacket and walk outside in disbelief. It feels like I'm walking through water but but I don't get wet. Three or four years passed before I really got used it, to finally not be shocked. Now, as a seasoned San Franciscan, I  see people who have moved here and are experiencing their first  summer or who have made the fatal mistake of planning a vacation this time of year. They all have the same look of bewilderment on their faces. You can always spot them by the amount of white they have on, and the shorts and the tee-shirts they're still wearing in the late afternoon. They try to look like they're having fun and not minding the temperature, but they're cursing inside. No matter where they came from, it's probably warmer there right now.     

   It reminds me that San Francisco stands alone. It makes perfect sense that this city has it's own weather. San Francisco doesn't have the same politics as the rest of America, so why should it have the same climate? Even if California hasn't passed a Gay Marriage Bill, San Francisco is still the only place in America where all politicians pander to the gay vote and live in fear of gay boycotts and pickets, and even riots if need be. Face it, there's nothing scarier coming towards you than a screaming gay guy in high heels or a pissed-off dyke, or the most scary of all, a gay couple charging at you with a baby carriage. The Republicans who are here don't seem to have any problems with the gay lifestyle, or at least they keep their mouths shut about it in public. Bigots and fundamentalists around the country always single out San Francisco as Hell on earth. It is a distinction that also is an honor, and makes us even more unique than our weather. City Supervisors arrive in drag at fundraisers, and transvestites go to work in schools and  corporate offices. San Francisco lets you do what you want to do and be who you want to be. The only thing it will judge you for is being closed-minded. That seems to be the only socially unacceptable thing here. 

    I grew up in New York, lived in Miami, and have traveled to many gay meccas around the world, but I have never felt more safe and more powerful as a gay person as I do in this big little village. Let the weather suck in July. It's a small price to pay for being in such a special place. I promise to remember it every day this month, and I promise to remember my jacket too.