The morning that I made the acquaintance of Tenshi Kyoto marked the end of my first month of living in San Francisco. My family and I had just moved to the city from a small town just north of Lancaster, Pennsylvania because my father got a better job. I had not complained at the time. On the contrary, I couldn't have been happier. I had wanted to leave for quite some time, to lose my small-town mindset and open up in the freedom of a large town where nobody knew who I was. San Francisco was a wonderfully large and ever-changing place. It felt as though more people populated a single street block here than did my entire home state.
The transformation was not easy, not in the slightest. In the month since we had moved, I had not left my room except to eat or watch TV with my parents, which was rare. I had everything that I could possibly need in here: a plethora of books, a 24 pack of green tea, my laptop, and my cell phone. I'd never admit it, but deep in my gut I knew- I was homesick. I missed my old friends, my old school, I even missed my old job (which was saying quite a lot).
Due to this, my parents thought that I was becoming a depressed, anti-social, future psychopathic serial killer and decided, against my will, that the three of us would be attending the annual picnic that my father's company throws at the San Francisco Zoo. I was not given an option, not even a warning that this would be happening, until that fateful morning, when my parents told me I had 15 minutes to get ready, and then we left.
Having gotten used to awkward car rides with my parents (considering we opted to drive the 3000 miles to "see the country") I quickly popped in my headphones and turn on a song by my favorite group, The Sea Lions, whose whiney acoustic/folk music has a seemingly direct current into my soul. I see my parents try to talk in the front seat, their mouths move for a short period of time. They realize that I've toned them out, so they put away the façade that they are happy, at least until we get to the zoo.
When we arrive, we slowly make our way to the "Party Room" by following the signs posted from the parking lot. Parking at the zoo on a Saturday is a bitch, so the walk takes up the greater part of 10 minutes. I leave my headphones in. No sense in feigning excitement quite yet, I decide. As the entrance comes into sight my mother turns around and starts to say something. I nod and pretend I'm listening, until she comes over and yanks one of my ear buds out.
"James! Take those damn things out of your ears and put on a nice smile when we get in there. Can we please try and have a nice time today?" I can tell she's a little nervous, she's never been fond of meeting new people, always kept to herself a bit, I guess. I'm not nervous so much anymore, mostly just apathetic. That's the way it's been for a while, ever since we got here, I suppose.
Anyways, I don't feel like making a scene, so I put them away and put on a smile as we go inside. Mom and Dad start to hold hands, and lead me to a table. The employees have broken off into their separate "departments", and so we head to the big table labeled "Finance". Dad introduces us to everyone so I smile and shake hands and put on an act worthy of a Oscar. After about twenty minutes, we've finished, so I start to look around for food.
All the way at the back, they've got a buffet set up, so I make myself a burger. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, but the buns are all stale, the meat is overcooked and the ketchup is warm. I throw it all together and head back to the table, making sure to grab a cup of lemonade on my way.
I sit down and try to eat. After about 5 bites, I trash the burger. It was rather terrible, to be blunt. I notice a little kid walking to a table with a gigantic cookie, and decide that I too would like a cookie, so long as they have oatmeal raisin. I tell my dad I'm going to wander around for a little bit and then I'm off.
