The land was enchanted long ago to allow for the fog to be summoned on command, moving in like a swift white carpet, muffling sounds and distorting the images human eyes can see. The fog tumbles across the hills and mountains like a great grey-white wave, pressing and pressing inward until it erases San Francisco from view. On those days and nights, when most can see barely more than the hand in front of their face, the city’s Others: fairies, witches, vampires and werewolves can meet and attend to their business. In the darkness of night, the light muted, the air wet and grey, it can be difficult to know if what you are seeing is real.
Besides its reputation for fog, San Francisco is known for its colorful population. It’s no accident that so many outlandish people live here. The city is home to an enormous population of Others, alive and undead. That the beat poets, the free speech movement, the summer of love, the sexual revolution, and the gay rights movement originated in San Francisco, is no coincidence. Amidst the tattooed, pierced and corseted, the Others are free live to their lives. Teaming with sexuality, creativity, a thirst for rebellion and expression San Francisco makes it easy to seem “normal.”
In San Francisco, it is easy to hide in plain sight.