The oldest man alive is rollerblading around SF.

Something really weird happens when you find out a San Franciscan's age: they turn out to be much older than you thought. Apartment hunting, I met this 50 year old woman who I swore up and down was 35. She liked going out, had a boyfriend, loved salsa dancing. I can think of several friends who would have hit on her mercilessly.

The potential roommate I’m grabbing a beer with tonight is supposed to be 29. He probably has a hard time getting into the clubs he’s DJ’ing. Last night I met a 37 yo dentist. I definitely have more smile lines than she did.

Now during my apartment search, I haven’t seen even one that’s got a hyperbaric chamber in the bedroom. There are no Juan Ponce’s Fountain of Youth Cafés. Many of the people I’ve met seem to be very into Yoga. The aforementioned dentist recently made a Yoga specific pilgrimage to India.

Or they are lying about their age in some Twilight Zone reverse kinda way. I can’t wait for everyone will take off their masks and reveal their piggy faces. (Speaking of, spotted a Piggly Wiggly shirt in North Beach Friday.)

I’ve been trying to figure out the formula to calculate my age in SF years but so far it’s just made my head hurt. Here it seems you don’t lie about your age, you brag about it.

A pic:

The view from my corporate housing living room.

More pictures coming but the Fountain of Youth I'm enjoying is closing up shop for the evening.