Woooo-Hoooo!

Every once in a while, the sun shines in San Francisco. When it does, Tiffany and I like to get out and enjoy it. Now that the days are longer again, we try to go for a run together after work a couple nights a week. We run down to Ghirardelli Square, past the crazy people swimming in the freezing water and up and over Fort Mason, past the crazy grown-ups twirling their hula hoops.

We don't usually see crazy people on traffic lights. But that's just where we found one the other night.

"Wooooo-hooooo," we heard as we prepared to cross the street.

I squinted at some of the car windows around us but didn't see anyone who looked like they were in a "woo-hoo" mood.

"Woooo-hooooooo," we heard again.

Tiffany glanced over at the elementary school basketball court where a bunch of men were panting as they ran from endline to endline. They did not look like they had the extra air required to be "woo-hooing."

"Oh," Tiffany said. "Don't look up."

I looked up.

"Don't look up!" she said. "You'll just distract him and he might fall."

"Who are you talking about?" I asked, shielding my eyes.

Tiffany jutted her chin toward the traffic light. I scanned my eyes up, up... ah, yes, the woo-hooer looked exactly like you might expect a woo-hooer with the capacity to climb a traffic light to look: like he was on drugs. More specifically, he was young and skinny and shirtless, gyrating his hips as he grasped the light.

"Wooooo--hooooooo," he yelled, gazing up at the sun.

Now, I love me some sun too. But I see no reason to climb a traffic light to pay homage.

When the man's light turned red, we ran underneath him. Meanwhile a woman in a car pulled to a stop, took out her cell phone and snapped his picture.

She got an extra loud "wooo-hoooo" for her trouble.