San Diego & Las Vegas

 The flight to San Diego was delayed, but only after we were in the plane. At first, there’d been a terminal change that I almost failed to notice, but I made it easily to the correct gate just as boarding was beginning. Upon boarding, I couldn’t get the arm to retreat into my bag, so I couldn’t get it into the overhead locker the way it was supposed to go.

After much fuss and, finally, a guy somehow hitting it back in, we were told there was a delay due to a maintenance issue. After 45 minutes, the issue was resolved and the very same second of the announcement we had a lightning strike. The captain informed us that each lighting strike triggers a fifteen-minute wait period to ensure the sky is clear. In total, we sat on the runway for just over two and a half  hours before finally taking off.

The morning had been one of joy, for I was on vacation and my ear infection had almost entirely disappeared. I could hear for the first time in seven days. I made breakfast and then a sandwich that I packed in my backpack to eat later on the plane. I didn’t realise until later how much of a great idea this turned out to be.

Later, on the plane, it occurred to me how emotions such as excitement become blunted as we grow older. I never have been one to be ridiculously excited about things because many things never happen or they happen differently to our expectation. But, travelling to one of my favourite places on earth, I realised that it wasn’t the same as being late teens and early twenties, thinking of going to a surf shop and buying a new T-shirt, venturing onto the beach for the first time in months or years, it was just a trip, a break, an escape. But I couldn’t escape the thoughts of my father, alone, at home. Or the thoughts of people I didn’t even know, who were trapped and alone or in a bad relationship. People getting old and being neglected by family, possibly by society, feeling only sadness and sorrow.

I don’t want to dwell on the negative and dark side of life, I just mean to say that I’m grateful, and I’ve been very fortunate, and I’ve also made choices that others would see as sad… but I’m grateful to have the opportunity to hop onto a plane and travel. 

 

Upon arrival, I took the 992 bus from the Airport to the bay and got off close to my hotel, walked to the hotel and checked into my delightful room (1434 at the Residence Inn by Marriot). It was spacious, with a kitchen area and a sofa as well as a king-sized bed. It had a floor to ceiling window with a view of the bay. I immediately unpacked my Apple TV and started connecting it so that I would be able to watch the English soccer in the early hours of the meeting whilst the rest of the West Coast slept. With some struggle, I achieved it, then ventured out to get some dinner and beers. I walked across the street to the Kitch bar and sipped a Celestial Navigation whilst watching the sun start to set over the bay. 

I awoke several times through the night and finally got up and made coffee at 5am local time. Not too bad as that is 7am in my time zone. After watching soccer for a while, reading a little, going to buy some water, I took a walk to Fifth Avenue & Laurel Street where there was a St. Patrick’s day parade. The walk was quite tiring, all up hill in bright sunshine and by the time I arrived, I was wet with sweat. I watched the parade for a little while and then walked down the street to escape the crowd. I walked into a little sushi restaurant and had a beer and some sushi. The staff were really sweet, but all seemed to have difficulty moving around. I couldn’t help but feel a little bit sad. From there, I walked down into Little Italy and to Bolt Brewery. I really enjoyed Bolt. It has a touchtunes dukebox so you can play music whilst drinking a beer. It was very relaxing to sit at the counter and watch people pass by. The beer was great, too. My favourite being the OG IPA. 

 

Sunday was Ocean beach. One of the first places I visited in San Diego, and it held a form of magic for me that lasted many years. It’s scruffy and yet beautiful. It’s a mix of surfers, skaters, punks, hippies, and the middle-aged who may be a bit of all the afore-mentioned who have ventured to its core in the hope of extracting some fun from life… or maybe just from the day. After a walk along the beach, I went to the Blue water restaurant in the hope that I would see a member of staff I had seen there upon my previous visit but, sadly, she was not there. There was a lady and her friend who came to sit beside me. The lady was from Dallas but lived in San Diego, and her friend was from San Diego. They spoke a fair amount in their inebriation. As I left, Dallas lady handed me her phone number and asked me to call her. I ventured around the corner to the OB Brewery where it’s possible to order a beer at the bar, then go up onto the roof for a view of the ocean and Newport Drive. I spent an hour or so lingering on the rooftop before getting an Uber back to my hotel. 

    Monday was the day of the harbour cruise. I walked down towards the Padres Baseball stadium in the morning and had breakfast at Lucky’s, my favourite breakfast place in San Diego. I have been there a few times over the years and, each time I go, the same lady is behind the counter with her smile and kindness. The omelettes are beyond amazing, served with a huge portion of hash browns. The only time I ever saw the place crowded was a Sunday morning when there was a marathon. After breakfast, I walked back via the amazing Convention center, famous for Comicon, designed to look like the Millenium Falcon, through Seaport Village and along past the Midway museum to Hazlewood’s Deli, a great place for a snack or a drink in a café style atmosphere. I bought a coke and a water. I put the water in my bag for the cruise and drank the coke at one of the tables outside. The Cruise itself was and always is magnificent. This time we had a special treat as we got to see a Nuclear Submarine being pushed out of the bay by two tug boats.

    After the cruise I walked to the Gaslamp Quarter once more and went to a Mexican Restaurant called 'Blind Burro' and, as I sat down there was a spectacular police chase with about seven police cars chasing one guy on a scooter who was riding up the sidewalk in a gesture of hopeless rebellion. Why do people make things difficult for themselves?

            In the morning, I walked up to Bolt Brewery where I had a couple of beers and lunch before walking back down to Ketch for another raspberry mojito overlooking the ocean before getting an Uber to the airport for my flight to Las Vegas via Phoenix.

 

Las Vegas is a hot ball of disaster. It’s a mesh of everything… people, desperate, hoping to win money, others simply hoping to find some food. So many have lost their way, homeless and shouting into the sky. What does the place offer them? They have gone there chasing something and yet there is no substance. One of the great downfalls of man is the pursuit of things with no substance, no value, no soul. To visit for a few days can be quite spectacular, but I didn’t feel this way as I was flying from Phoenix… the plane hit turbulence in an unusual way; it seemed the left of the plane had flown into something and then the plane dropped to the right and made a sound as if one of the engines was lost. It was only a 42-minute flight, but it seemed to take an eternity. The lady sitting next to me started to talk to me and was a very pleasant and intelligent individual who worked in education and had studied literature. When we landed, I took her bag down for her, but I was feeling sick. The day had been too long, and I had hardly slept the night before. I walked, with terrible stomach pain, looking for the exit, and finally found the crowded place where passengers were calling Ubers. My Uber arrived and I struggled to identify him, as usual, because I don’t really know car types and no one ever has a license plate on the front of their car. ‘Anton?’ I asked. ‘The trunk is open’, he replied. He sounded like a robot with a Terminator accent (Arnie). As he started to drive me towards my hotel, we spoke a lot and it turned out that he was from Ukraine but had lived in many different places. He’d also travelled around the US.

            Finally making it into my hotel room I was deeply relieved because I was exhausted, but I am slightly horrified to discover that I could hear and feel a live band playing in nearby Freemont Street and I knew there was no way it would end soon. Due to my ear infection, I also knew that I couldn't wear ear plugs. I was condemned to a poor sleep. The only consolation was that I had no plans for the next day, affording me the luxury of rest. 

            Awaking, after a few hours of sleep, I went for a walk around the local area, including the Fremont Street Experience, I played $1 in a casino, won $1, then lost it. Then after a little more rest, I walked to the Art District and went to a British restaurant/bar, Cornish Pasty, for lunch. Dinner that evening was at The Hennessy Tavern where I fell in love with one of the staff. I was so relaxed by this time, and so happy with the vantage point that I had, I started to chat with the bar tender and confessed my love for her colleague. A few minutes later I saw them whispering, then they looked at me and smiled. I left shortly afterwards. 

    The following day was the amazing Punk Rock Museum as described in my previous post.