Jeff's belongings are clean and orderly and his tent is in remarkably good shape. He acknowledges it's not on par to the circus tent looming behind him -- but it's definitely not manufacturers seconds, either.
"I found it in the trash," he says with another laugh. "It was new in the box -- right after Burning Man. Guess they didn't need it anymore."
Jeff's buddy Mike, himself a denizen of San Francisco's streets for the past 18 years, chimes in. "You'd be real surprised what you can find in the trash."
The green tent was a familiar sight several months ago in the parking lot -- Jeff camped here for about three months straight. City officials came by and asked him to leave, and he quickly complied. "They were nice about it and we didn't give them any trouble." He occasionally pops back into the lot -- usually a giant circus tent isn't there to keep him company -- and camps throughout Mission Bay between the ballpark and the power plant on 24th.
Every so often Jeff or Mike will leave San Francisco. But it never lasts too long. "It's like they've put a big magnet on our butts," rhapsodizes Jeff. "We always end up back here."