You Know You’re in San Francisco—and Not in Paris—When…

…it’s a typically gray, foggy day and no one’s complaining about it.

…you walk past a local branch of your bank at 7pm and not only is it open, but there is a sizable line of customers inside.

…fleece and sneakers are acceptable fashion choices, even if you’re not “doing sport.”

…it’s OK to be gay, even outside of one sheltered neighborhood (I’m looking at you, Marais). What’s more, you can find a shop that sells KY and gay porn beside a quaint purveyor of antiques.

…big, burly, Beary men—and not fur-coat swathed, frail, elderly ladies—are trotting around their teeny-tiny pooches. And the dogs aren’t allowed into restaurants.

…restaurant patrons request a swap of ingredients in a dish because they’re vegan/ vegetarian/ pesco-ovo-lacto-tarian/ (or the mundane alternative) allergic, and servers don’t bat an eyelash.

…dishes with less fat content are considered more respectable, rather than less refined.

…people are taking their fair trade, organic, soy chai lattes TO GO in their reusable coffee mugs.

…Coca Cola isn’t loathed because it’s a symbol of American cultural imperialism, but rather because it’s essentially high-fructose corn syrup in a can.

…people over and under the age of 40 have actually heard of—or even seen—The Grateful Dead.

…the long, thin object under a pedestrian’s arm is a yoga mat and not a baguette.

Those are but some of the city-specific differences I’ve noted in the two months I’ve been back. If you can think of others, feel free to share in the comments.