Happy Places

For the past fifteen years or so, I’ve lived in very happy places. Happy spots include places like Graceland. At Graceland, no-one is ever unhappy. What could one possibly be unhappy about at a place like that? He even died on the shitter at that place. I personally cannot think of a better way to go.

In retrospect, it was never my plan to live in happy spots. Perhaps it’s just the karma of each of these places. You go there, it’s got a good feel, and you decide to live there. Shiny happy places I’ve lived near:

Abbey Road Studio’s.

Since Mark Chapman was convicted of the shooting of John Lennon, most of the people at Abbey Road Studios in London are quite happy. They take buses, tours and individual treks to this happy spot. At the spot, they gleefully pose for pictures, hold up traffic by walking across “the crossing” (always in groups of four and one with their shoes off). The Beatles tourists write lyrics and lovely messages on the white-washed wall in front of the studios. I lived four doors down from Abbey Road Studios.

Roppongi, Tokyo

Roppongi may actually be the happiest place on earth. Or perhaps it’s just the stupor from having more bars per square mile than any other place on earth. When you combine about 44m people in the Tokyo metro area with lots of bankers, expats and models, you end up with a place that has single buildings with 20 or 30 bars in them. People from all over the world flock to the joys of Roppongi, and I survived living in center of it all.

The Crookedest Street

Lombard Street in San Francisco – actually there is a correction here. Lombard isn’t entirely, always, a happy spot. Sometimes, there are honking, angry people giving all the tourists the finger.

Usually it’s me, frustrated at the throngs of cars making illegal turns onto the crooked street despite 10 picture signs to the contrary. I guess my "living in my happy spots" streak has finally come to an end.