The Great SWG Migration

What does SWG stand for you ask? Well, it’s fairly simple: Standard White Guy. Now, let me be clear that the word ‘Standard’ has zero negative connotations in this context. After all, I’m a proud member of the SWG’s myself. I wouldn’t make fun of myself would I? Wait, you’re right, I love self-deprecating humor. You got me. But anyway, you get the point. It is hard to define a SWG exactly, but I’ll do my best:

Standard White Guy (or SWG): A white male that comes from a middle or upper class upbringing who follows a somewhat traditional life path similar to his peers. SWG’s are typically raised in predominantly white areas (usually the suburbs) with very little racial, ethnic, or economic diversity. The SWG is fortunate in the sense that a college degree is the norm, and even a graduate degree is likely. SWG’s tend to work normal, 9-5 type jobs, and really only take time off from this normal grind for one of two reasons: to go to graduate school full-time or to volunteer/work abroad for a short period of time.

Now your next question I’m sure is what exactly is the ‘Great SWG Migration’? Well, I was talking to my good friend Jon the other day about me moving back to San Francisco, as well as about his own exodus from SF to San Diego for graduate school. During this conversation, it dawned on us that the two of us, as well as a large majority of our close group of friends and siblings are ALL moving cities, as well as finishing/starting graduate school and/or taking on completely new jobs within the next couple of months. And yep, you guessed it. All of these people are none other than SWG’s. The city origins and destinations probably won’t come as any surprise either: Boston, D.C., San Francisco, San Diego, Philadelphia, and NYC. What can I say? Those happen to be some of the most SWG friendly cities in the U.S. That’s just the way it is.

Will the Great SWG Migration have a large effect on the overall economy of America? Probably not. Will it affect weather patterns or lead to headlines in major newspapers? Again, probably not (or at least we hope not). So what does this major migration of SWG’s mean when all is said and done? Well, nothing really. There is a steady flow of SWG’s between these cities at all times, thus it will be business as usual in each city, only with a brand new crop of SWG’s.

It is, however, a great time of change for all of those people involved. It’s an exciting, scary, daunting, and fun time all wrapped into one. Who knows what the next chapter will bring for this small group of individuals. Traditionally, the next chapter in the SWG handbook brings marriage, kids, and a house in the suburbs. Some are already married, and one kid is on the way. No houses in the suburbs yet.

But here’s the thing. This isn’t any ordinary group of SWG’s. The Standard path stops here. There is no longer a handbook to follow (sorry fellas). From here on out, you’re simply a WG. I know this might be tough, but hey, in the grand scheme of things, this ain’t so bad. Good luck to all.

From Hella to Howarrya and Back Again

I grew up outside of Boston, lived in San Francisco for almost 5 years after college, returned to Boston for graduate school two years ago, and am now moving back to San Francisco yet again.  This post is all about the random, little things I’ll miss about Boston, as well as the random, little things I’m looking forward to experiencing again in San Francisco.

Things I’ll miss about Boston:

Greetings:

The ubiquitous Howarrya?;  Yep, whether at Logan, Starbucks, the DMV, or Trader Joe’s, you can always count on a few classic Howarryas (pronounced just like it sounds when said quickly).

Moreover, here in “Beantown,” a good ol’ howarrya is usually followed by one of the following (with a thick Boston accent of course): guy, champ, sport, kid, and bud.  As in, “Howarrya? Doing OK champ?” or “Howarrya? Sup with you bud?” or even “Howarrya? All done with that sport?” 

I, like most, often take these little greetings for granted, but now that I’m poised to leave again, I cherish each and every one.

Superdudes:

What is a “superdude” you ask?  Well, it’s hard to describe exactly as there are various degrees of superdudeness, but it basically boils down to the following: A superdude is typically a guy that has an affinity for tight shirts and/or wifebeaters, hair gel, Bud Light, and of course, knuckle sandwiches. 

You know a superdude when you see one.  These guys can be pretty annoying, but I must admit, they also can be quite endearing.  For some reason, there seems to be a higher than normal concentration of these guys in Boston.  God bless ‘em.

Winter and No Happy Hours:

Haha.  I kid, I kid.  I certainly won’t miss these two things.

Things I’m looking forward to again in San Francisco:

Wackjobs:

If people watching were an official sport, the commissioner would most certainly reside in San Francisco.  Basically, every day seems to be Halloween in this city.  Where else can you see a delusional pirate complete with a parrot and eye patch, a man in full S&M gear complete with assless chaps, and a Silicon Valley entrepreneur complete with a neatly trimmed beard, Versace glasses, jeans, a nice shirt, and flip flops all cohabitating in the same patch of grass in a local park?  Nowhere.  Exactly.  

Protests and Parades:

It is very rare that a week goes by in San Francisco without some sort of protest, picketing, or parade.  Themes for these events run the whole gamut from gay rights, to anti-war, to hotel wages, to mythic crystal worship.  You name it, there’s an event for it. 

Yes, these gatherings can often snarl traffic, screw up your morning commute, or make you want to poke your eyes out with a fork sometimes, but all in all, the relentless, ironic pursuit of San Franciscans to be against everything and anything is often quite entertaining.  

Hipsters and Hella:

OK, OK.  You got me.  I am definitely not looking forward to teens clad in SF Giants gear preceding every adjective with “hella,” or to a sea of tight jeans, one-speed track bikes, plaid, moustaches, Keds, and messenger bags.  But hey, at least the Mission bars have Happy Hour!!

Mo' Water, Mo' Problems?

The current water crisis in Massachusetts (nicknamed "aquapocalypse" by someone who is surely very proud of themselves) has resulted in really only one thing: a perpetuation of every American, and in particular Bostonian, stereotype.

Local stores can't keep bottled water in stock.  It's almost as if Katrina hit Boston.  You would think that such a situation would bring out the best in people.  Well, if you think that, you're clearly not from Boston or have never lived here.  First of all,  let me just preface this by saying I love Boston.  I grew up near the city, and the city is great in many ways.  However, an outpouring of friendliness from the locals is not one of those ways.

Let me give you a concrete example from this current water situation.  This is an interaction that a friend of mine witnessed this morning at Shaw's supermarket:

Customer #1: (hoarding a couple of last remaining crates of bottled water...yep, crates, guarding them with her life like they were twinkies and Fat Camp just got out)

Customer #2: "Hey, do you think I could maybe get some of that water?  You seem to have more than enough.  You can't just take all of the remaining water!"

Customer #1: "It's a free country.  I can do whatever I want."

Customer #2: "You're right, and because it's a free country I can also say whatever I want...so fahk you!"


Ahhh, Boston.  One of the first settlements of this great nation.  A place where Paul Revere once went out of his way to alert some of our founding fathers (Hancock and Adams) of the approach of the British army.  Alas, if we were at war today on American soil in and around Boston, I can only picture one scenario:

Paul Revere esqe dude: "The British are coming!"

Other dude aptly named Sully or Murph: "Hey Revere, go fahk yaself!  If you ever ride that horse near my lawn again, I'll rearrange your face."


I'm off to boil some water so that it's safe to drink.  Beats going to the store.