In the dark early foggy morning, an extra large cargo ship passes through the Golden Gate, stretching its waking arms and yawning with its excessively loud horn. These horn blasts may very well be necessary for the sailboat captain fallen asleep on the deck of his much smaller vessel to wake up and get his boat quickly out of the way to avoid being crushed underneath the boisterous breast of the cargo ship. But for myself, asleep in my apartment in the middle of the city, five or so miles inland—not in any immediate danger, or otherwise concerned with the passage of a ten thousand ton cargo ship carrying a thousand multi-colored cargo boxes filled with varied wares from all over the world—these horn blasts are naught but a morning alarm that has sounded too early.