Ah, San Francisco. You’re a city of such contrasts. Riding BART to work last week, I noticed a woman buttoning up her jeans as she stood next to me. As you do. She had make-shift grillz and asked me for money. I gave her my usual response. She pushed on to the next carriage and left a parting gift of urine that snaked its way down the carriage floor to pool at my feet. On Sunday, the Canadian and I were afforded one of the most ‘San Francisco’ days either of us have ever experienced. Dottie’s True Blue Cafe is renown as the best brekkie in town and lines are usually over an hour long. They recently moved from the Tenderloin, to SoMa. And SoMa is obviously short for ‘So Much Worse than the Tenderloin’. So there we were outside Dottie’s new location on Sixth, minding our business camouflaged in a line of about thirty hipsters. Residents in the SRO opposite kept chucking trash out the windows at us. Local types camped out on the …