Bristling with tourists, shoppers, and teens, Market Street on a sunny Sunny afternoon could have almost been 42nd Street in Manhattan, sans the smell of hot dogs.

It's days like this that remind me of how much I love big cities.

Over on the corner of Market and 2nd Street, two guys in suits sat at a table with the sign: "Free Stress Tests." Also on the table was a device with a metal rod and two electrodes that slipped onto your fingers. To the left of the device were a stack of Dianetics books.

Seated at the table were two girls who were speaking excitedly with one of the suited guys. "This has totally changed my life," the guy said. "I'm a whole new person now."

"Hey, think they'll bring out Tom Cruise?" someone snickered behind me. I grinned.

A handful of teens pushed their way through the crowd in front of me. I could see the tall, spiked Mohawk of one of them, and hear the rattle of chains from another.

Behind Tall Mohawk was a second Mohawked teen with bright pink hair and a stud in her lower lip. Two other smaller punks adorned with chains and spikes and other wonders of the Sex Pistols Age followed them.

"…but you're wrong!" Tall Mohawk shouted to Pink Mohawk. "It wasn't Nietzsche who said that at all. Voltaire did nearly a century before, in the 1700s!"

I blinked and watched them pass me by. Can't judge a book by its cover in this city.

When I reached 5th Street, I turned towards Mission. A mother and child waited patiently at the edge of the street because of the "Don't Walk" sign, even though no cars could be seen.

In front of me, two older ladies chatted with each other animatedly. Their hands flailed about like noodles in boiling water.

"There's this woman in Berkeley whose 9 year old son looks 18 from behind!" she declared. Her hand movements accentuated the sentence well, including height imitations of the age differences. Apparently, in her mind, 9 year olds are as tall as her waist and 18 year olds as tall as stop signs. That's one hell of a growth spurt for one kid.

I walked into the Fifth and Mission Parking Garage and paid for my parking. The sounds of the city died away as I walked up the stairs. Along the way, I passed a teenage couple.

"We're taking the stairs?" asked the blonde girl.

"Duh. You ask me that WHILE we're walking down the stairs?" replied the guy.

I chuckled and continued up to the second floor. Standing at the second-floor elevators was a young Asian couple. I looked back at the stairs, then at the elevator, then at the stairs again.

It wasn't a very far walk, but I guess the couple preferred the elevator. Why exert yourself if you don't have to, right?

I found my car, pulled out of the garage, and watched San Francisco disappear in my rear-view mirror as I sped down the 101. What a great city.

. . .

Have you taken a stroll through your town lately?