Enduring Monument
Day 24
Co-Walkers: Mom and Dad
Neighborhoods Covered: um, Lower Marin? Outer Marina? Pacific View?
Streets Completed: Golden Gate Bridge
Is the Golden Gate Bridge technically a street in San Francisco? Sort of, yes, in that it's designed to convey people and vehicles and, depending on your perspective, it starts or ends in SF. But sort of no, too, as it probably officially becomes Marin County at a certain point, and also serves no stated purpose beyond the aforementioned conveyance. The tollbooths and Gifto Shoppu (for real) on the southern end of the bridge may pass for commerce, but there are, of course, no stores, houses, or points of industry on the bridge itself--none of the stuff encountered on your run-of-the-mill street, that is.
But no matter. My parents were in town and it was a beautiful day, so we joined the hordes and hoofed it across the bridge on Sunday.
Here's the thing: the Golden Gate is, of course, San Francisco's most recognized and ENDURING (please see above) monument, recognized around the world as a symbol of the city. And it's probably an engineering marvel or something, too. But since watching The Bridge, I can't see it or drive across it--much less walk the whole span and back--without half expecting someone to pitch himself off it.
I know that's a terrible and maudlin thing to say, but the fact is that for all of its splendor, the Golden Gate Bridge is the world's #1 suicide landmark. In 2004, the year in which The Bridge was shot, 24 people--or approximately one every 15 days--jumped from the bridge. (That's the official, known figure; there may have been more.) Assuming that figure hasn't changed significantly in the past few years, it's fair to guess that suicides on the bridge could happen at any time, regardless of how crowded or deserted the walkways might be. So now I keep half an eye on people standing along the rail whenever I'm on the bridge. And that's fairly creepy.
But I'm happy to report that although I had my eyes out, Sunday's walk brought nothing more than the standard flow of tourists, runners, cyclists, and Code Pink protesters. (OK, perhaps those last aren't quite so standard, but they were a sight to see, accompanied as they were by a literal small army of CHP and bridge officers. See photos of them here.)
It was a long and generally pleasant walk (although the traffic noise gets a bit deafening after, say, 50 feet), and by the end of it I got to revel in a decent sense of accomplishment, even if I didn't actually get to check anything off my Official List of Streets.
Co-Walkers: Mom and Dad
Neighborhoods Covered: um, Lower Marin? Outer Marina? Pacific View?
Streets Completed: Golden Gate Bridge
Is the Golden Gate Bridge technically a street in San Francisco? Sort of, yes, in that it's designed to convey people and vehicles and, depending on your perspective, it starts or ends in SF. But sort of no, too, as it probably officially becomes Marin County at a certain point, and also serves no stated purpose beyond the aforementioned conveyance. The tollbooths and Gifto Shoppu (for real) on the southern end of the bridge may pass for commerce, but there are, of course, no stores, houses, or points of industry on the bridge itself--none of the stuff encountered on your run-of-the-mill street, that is.
But no matter. My parents were in town and it was a beautiful day, so we joined the hordes and hoofed it across the bridge on Sunday.
Here's the thing: the Golden Gate is, of course, San Francisco's most recognized and ENDURING (please see above) monument, recognized around the world as a symbol of the city. And it's probably an engineering marvel or something, too. But since watching The Bridge, I can't see it or drive across it--much less walk the whole span and back--without half expecting someone to pitch himself off it.
I know that's a terrible and maudlin thing to say, but the fact is that for all of its splendor, the Golden Gate Bridge is the world's #1 suicide landmark. In 2004, the year in which The Bridge was shot, 24 people--or approximately one every 15 days--jumped from the bridge. (That's the official, known figure; there may have been more.) Assuming that figure hasn't changed significantly in the past few years, it's fair to guess that suicides on the bridge could happen at any time, regardless of how crowded or deserted the walkways might be. So now I keep half an eye on people standing along the rail whenever I'm on the bridge. And that's fairly creepy.
But I'm happy to report that although I had my eyes out, Sunday's walk brought nothing more than the standard flow of tourists, runners, cyclists, and Code Pink protesters. (OK, perhaps those last aren't quite so standard, but they were a sight to see, accompanied as they were by a literal small army of CHP and bridge officers. See photos of them here.)
It was a long and generally pleasant walk (although the traffic noise gets a bit deafening after, say, 50 feet), and by the end of it I got to revel in a decent sense of accomplishment, even if I didn't actually get to check anything off my Official List of Streets.
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