This week’s column for the S.F. Examiner is about taking two tourists to see the Golden Gate Bridge and not being able to find it…

“Welcome to summer in San Francisco,” I tell the two girls from Long Island in the backseat of my cab as we roll across the Golden Gate Bridge, shrouded in a thick blanket of fog. “I swear, there’s a bridge in here somewhere.”

Twenty minutes earlier, when I picked them up on Market Street across from the Hyatt Regency, the sun was shining. It was 6:45 p.m., and I was feverishly trying to make my nut while there were still hands in the air.

Read the rest here.

Photo by Jan Pöschko. Available under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial license.