I have magical memories of Fort Mason. I used to walk through here with my mom when we lived on the Presidio, climbing up the green hills to descend back down into Fisherman's Wharf. It was the calm before the storm, the solace before the tack-filled zaniness that makes me both love and hate Fisherman's Wharf. But Fort Mason always endures, whether it be the booze-filled charity events in the Festival Pavilion or a quiet day at the bookshop or museums located on site, and the serene quality of it all never ceases to impress.