Work brings me to San Diego for the next several days. I come to you this morning (more on that later) from a hotel on the harbor, a few blocks up from the aircraft carrier Midway and across the harbor from a huge naval base (the name of which I think someone said was Coronado). An honest-to-God three-masted schooner, the Star of India, is docked nearby for your tourist pleasure. The Padres were playing a few blocks over; the towering stadium lights illuminating the night sky to the south of downtown.
I got here in time last night to wander the area. Every restaurant was jammed with patrons and music was blaring from every one of them onto the streets. This being Southern California, each eatery has tables set up outside along the sidewalk. One doesn't need to consult a menu in order to determine what entrees are offered; you just gaze at the array on the plates at the various tables to get a good idea what's available. It all looked fabulous.
The natives here in Southern California dress differently from the rest of the world. All the women are made up as if they're going to get a casting call from MGM at any moment (the display of cleavage must be a job requirement), and all the guys try to be as effeminate-looking as possible. I fully appreciate the former; I don't understand the latter. But to each his own.
As I mentioned several days ago, my brain stays on eastern time and I always get up at 4am. It's 1:55 in the morning here (PST) but my brain clock says it's time to get up so my day has begun. My guess is, if I were to walk downtown, the bars would still be hopping, and I'm up and ready for a new day. One of us is going to have to give on this. Either I conform to Pacific time or San Diego adopts Eastern Standard Time the way God meant for it to be. I'm going to campaign for the latter.
Anyway, this is as beautiful a city as you've heard it was. In every way. Wish you were here.
