Stranger in a Strange [City]; but the company is great

You can't go far without running into yet another best-kept-secret in town worth eating at, but it starts to put a dent in the pocket book before too long, so other means become prevalent. The one that comes recommended most is Trader Joe's (an all natural place), and considering now that I'm living on the west-coast and the two-buck-chuck actually costs two bucks (unlike Ohio's detestable three dollars!) I was sold on it.

I've found Muni to be a good barometer for the types of wondrous characters the populace has to offer. During my second time making the voyage to Trader Joe's I sat on the bus next to a man who shared his seat with a cockatoo on his shoulder, wearing a _leash and collar_ like some sort of Certified Avian Seeing-Eye Helper. I was ambivalent toward what I found more astonishing: This man's unique companion or the lack of any discernible reaction out of the other passengers around him. As though an exotic bird perched upon this bony watchtower--elegantly, like a modern day Pirate of Penzance--were no more out of place than a hat or a scarf and comes across by this point as a drab thing to behold.

I was still a bit too shy by my surroundings to chat him up, though after our paths diverged I recalled I should have asked him about the wild parrots of Telegraph Hill I've heard about. L'esprit de l'escalier!