July 2009Publisher's View: Candy LandBy Debbie FindlingRemember Candy Land, that brightly-colored board game where the streets are lined with lollipops and the worst thing that can happen is getting stuck in Molasses Swamp? I work in the Presidio, San Francisco’s life-size version of Candy Land. From my office I can see the Golden Gate Bridge’s ever-changing rust-colored hue, glistening in the backdrop of a blueberry bay. Hummingbirds peer through my window, their wings buzzing a happy tune. The streets are hugged by perfectly manicured flowers, flanked by red brick buildings that seem to have emerged from an artificially-sweetened past. Police officers on horseback, with slick uniformed pants tucked neatly into glossy black riding boots, make sure the inhabitants are safe from badly plotted day dreams. Recently, though, one of those officers dropped a rock in my candy bag. A $75 parking ticket, placed neatly on my windshield. Since I have a Presidio parking permit, I huffed down to federal court, where the magistrate (surprisingly not dressed like King Kandy or Queen Frostine) dismissed the fine and apologized for causing any stress. I was out just $5 – the cost of Civic Center parking – thinking that life in Candy Land is indeed sweet. I left Candy Land later that day and entered into real-life San Francisco, which is more like the board game Trouble. With its pop-o-matic plastic-dome dice container, players try to avoid getting trounced by their opponents, and chance plays a huge part in winning the game. Rushing across town to drive my seven-year-old daughter to a doctor’s appointment near Potrero Hill, my car tumbled along potholed streets, past motorists clogging the congested roadways, and hordes of pedestrians huddled against dilapidated Muni shelters. All the while, my usually precious daughter engaged in a full-blown temper tantrum. Arriving at the doctor’s office I couldn’t find parking; I spotted a truck-loading zone, drove for it while cursing silently that I didn’t have a single coin for the meter. I returned to my car to find a parking ticket, placed haphazardly on my windshield by a meter maid in a three-wheeled driving contraption. I stepped over a drunken homeless man to retrieve the $70 ticket. In the game of Candy Land, it appears; my Gingerbread man game piece moved 75 brightly-colored squares forward, then 75 right back, landing squarely in Molasses Swamp. Having played the game with my daughter not so many years ago, I should have remembered that you can only stay in Candy Land for so long before the magic wears off. Steven Moss will return in August to present more of his views. |
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