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<p>During my senior year in high school, I came to San Francisco for the first time. My dad had to attend a conference in Berkeley and I agreed to go, under the guise of "checking out UC Berkeley" even though I already had my heart set on Santa Cruz.</p>
<p>I'd do anything to get up to The Big City, and my dad loved to trap me in a car with him for 8 hours so we could have those "father-son bonding" kind of talks.</p>
<p>We took Highway 1 up most of the way. Dad and I in a dark blue BMW 320i (the car I still picture him in, even though he's driven a string of nondescript Hondas since). Just us and the slowly curving road.</p>
<p>I fell asleep immediately and slept soundly from LA to Los Gatos. I think my dad is still disappointed.</p>
<p>But we stopped in San Francisco on our way to Berkeley. Dad asked me where I wanted to go. Where do you think a high school kid would want to go?</p>
<p>"Haight Ashbury!"</p>
<p>And so we did. We found a parking meter and were getting out of the car when the spectre of drugs first raised its head. </p>
<p>My dad hadn't even shut his door and there was this guy in front of him.</p>
<p>"Hey, man. Wanna buy some pot?" said the guy.</p>
<p>"No," said my dad, shutting the door.</p>
<p>"How about some shrooms?"</p>
<p>I giggled. Dad glared at me.</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Speed?"</p>
<p>"No!"</p>
<p>Dad grabbed me and away we went <b><a href="02.html">into the bustle of Haight Street</a></b>.</p>
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