A midnight drive back from Sacramento with a colleague led to a discussion about the current condition of San Francisco, which we can all agree is less than favorable. When people tell me I should relocate there, they tell me I should “move up to The City.” I politely remind them that there is only one City in this country. And its called New York.

I am tiring the patience of all around me with constant comparison of East vs. West, but in conversation this evening I think the most fundamental difference was uncovered. Tuesday morning, two of the largest buildings in New York are destroyed by terrorist attack. Wednesday New Yorkers let the right people do the right job. Thursday everyone goes back to work.

What would happen if something similar happened in San Francisco? One of the nations largest ports with a unique persistent wind, the dirty bomb scenario is one that has been worked by many mainstream media outlets. When shit goes horribly wrong in New York, there is no panic, there are no riots, and there most definitely is no needlessly collateral disruption to lives or livelihoods.

When one walks around Manhattan after dark, one can feel the resolute strength of the storied soil upon which one walks. That the place has been under siege innumerable times by assaults of various motivations and survived by sheer will alone. The very geography has an iron character that begs to be proven it can withstand all comers.

When one walks around Pacific Heights after dark and one gets the impression of the Bastille on the eve of its destruction. That a single spark would send the comfortable seat of affluence tumbling down the hill into the bay. Bouncers hold metal detectors, women hold mace, and everyone eyes the other with a default contempt that needs only the slightest push to be genuine hate.  You feel like you are in a kingdom that is ready to fall.

Folks can continue to talk about the weather or the pace or the work ethic or the coffee or whatever when relating the differences between the coasts.  When my turn around the campfire comes, I will be talking about the steely resolve that separates the two and hope even a little settles in these hills before I leave.

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