Why San Francisco Feels Like an Amusement Park for American Tourists

Yes, reader: There’s a reason you can explore the “happiest place on earth” entirely on foot.

San Franciscans have a love-hate relationship with tourism — an evergreen tension that pulls like a game of tug-of-war. We welcome them (and the literally billions of dollars they bring into our local economy) and find ourselves smitten when they share adoration for this slice of Northern California; we’ll not help guide them to popular sightseeing locations and offer nuggets of lived wisdom. We don’t, however, applaud their use of mega buses that impede traffic, nor are we fond of those who partake in poverty porn for their own misguided social media use.

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Regardless of intention, San Francisco’s unique theme park appeal amongst other large American cities has not only merit but exists within an understood phenomenon called “theme park urbanism.”

Most of the United States is organized around car culture — a symptom of the country’s failure to adopt widespread public transportation as a means of travel.

(Mind you, it didn’t have to be this way; automotive companies began heavily lobbying Congress by the 1950s, pushing for federal funds to be spent constructing the first superhighways and interstates; it only took a decade before public transit agencies across the country began facing financial deficits, all while car sales and model available skyrocketed; by 2022, over 74% of all Americans relied on cars as a primary means of transportation and just 10% of all Americans utilized transportation regularly.)

Photo: Screenshot, courtesy of X via [at]the_transit_guy

As a result, urban and suburban sprawl grew and were normalized. Walkability scores in some of the country’s most populated areas shrunk as those cities expanded and highways became the veins connecting one metro, neighborhood, etc. to the other. This layout, however, is alien to the vast majority of large urban areas found in European, Central American, South American, and Asian countries. Global destination cities like Paris, Tokyo, and Mexico City are considered “walkable” cities, allowing residents and tourists alike to enrich themselves with cultural attractions, specific neighborhood offerings, and urban greenspaces without the need for a car; this is why walkable cities have fare higher rates of public transit use, as well as bike ownership, than cities organized around private vehicles.

For Americans, the idea of walkable cities is, statistically speaking, a foreign concept, with less than 7% of communities in the United States living inside walkable areas. This is why American theme parks, e.g., California Adventure and Disney World, feel like they’re plucked from faraway continents—worlds away from cookie-cutter suburbs.

In Anaheim, California, Disneyland is visited by millions of people worldwide. It is located inside one of the most car-centric metropolitans in the world. Visitors usually walk anywhere between four and eight miles during their visit, which, evidently enough, is nearly identical to the miles walked by the average person who resides in walkable municipalities like San Francisco and New York City. (For context, Americans walk just about two miles outside of walkable communities daily.)

Disneyland is widely considered the “happiest place on earth” for its sense of escapism, amusement, and mobility. We know walkable cities make people healthier — more connected, less isolated; more engaged, less ambivalent; more adventurous, less monotonous. There’s no question why the happiest place on earth would incorporate such a cornerstone for contentment.

We just need to expand its boundaries (and, to be frank, be kinder to tourists who appear gobsmacked by SF’s walkability).

Feature image: Courtesy of Sergio TB/Shutterstock