Occupying one of my recent weekends was Logan's very first, all by himself, grown-up visit to San Francisco. When company comes to town, I frequently rely on San Francisco's surplus of swanky watering holes to occupy some time, but naturally this is not an option for my 15-year old little brother. Thus, we just about wore holes through our shoes trekking around and seeing all the age-appropriate fun the city has to offer. Being a bit on the taciturn and quiet side - okay, not a bit, he bought a house on that side - Logan offered neither praise nor censure for San Francisco directly to me, but when my dad asked him what he thought about the city, he replied that it was "hecka cool." I'll take that as a compliment.
Some of our stops included Chinatown, where Logan posed with an equally lanky statue, the deYoung museum where his neon pants made him easy to find in the crowds, discovering his new favorite stores in Union Square (H&M and Urban Outfitters), and a scenic drive around the Legion of Honor and Presidio, ending with a stop at the Palace of Fine Arts (Elly Smelly in tow).
And when I asked what his favorite attraction was? In true teenager fashion: "The Mall." Fair enough. Our mall is extremely awesome, sick, cool, or whatever the current form of highest teenage praise may be. The dome at the top floor, decorated for Christmas, does indeed take the cake.
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