So popular I seem to be getting spam comments

Thanks to internet issues in San Diego and Irvine, this is the first I've been able to post in awhile. So, back to Thursday:

I’ve decided I like Las Vegas in the morning. It’s like going to Times Square after midnight, when there’s no one else around. The light shows are just for me, most people are sound asleep, and it feels like I’m there after-hours. It’s also fun watching the people at the table games order drinks at 10AM. In one last fit of confidence, I decided I could win money at roulette with my last $10. Of course, I manage to bet wrongly, and then lose the $10 within three rounds. Whoops.

We ate in Paris, or at least the Vegas version of it. Afterwards we hoped on the road and sped as fast as we could through the desert to the California coast. I’m still amazed by towns like Baker, CA, that are in the middle of the Mojave desert with nothing to offer except a couple of truck stops and the World’s Biggest Thermometer. Who would come to these places and think, hey, this is a good place to settle down. So what if it’s 100 degrees year-round and it’s two hours from anywhere? As for the thermometer, imagine a 100-foot tall broken-down neon sign attached to a dumpy restaurant. Yeah…

Our perfect 5-hour journey to San Diego was thwarted by LA traffic. Even though we were still a good 30 miles outside of what could be considered Los Angeles at 4PM, it was there. And stayed there as we wound our way through the mountains down to San Diego. All the hostels were booked, so I suggested we just get off by the airport, as there’s always cheap airport hotels. In San Diego, however, the airport is right next to downtown and the waterfront, and that is where the most expensive hotels are. We managed to find one semi-dumpy one in the area, and settled in at the café in the hostel down the street that refused us because we weren’t foreign, in order to poach their internet. Ha ha! We’re actually staying in Little Italy, so our whole neighborhood smells like cooking pizza. Mmm… pizza.

We, however, opted to find some of these famous San Diego fish tacos for dinner. William gave us an address of a place on Ocean Beach, and so we drove around in the darkness by extremely ritzy real estate for awhile until we gave up and settled at a local Mexican joint. If I never have Mexican again, I will be quite happy. For a few weeks. Anyway, they had fish tacos too. It sounded strange and alien-like to me, and the mixed tastes of guacamole and salmon were a little strange to the uninitied, but I liked it. It’s with a soft taco and lettuce and cheese, a slightly healthier option than the standard taco fare.

A nervous Erin retired to bed, and Adina and I found a local joint to have a drink and do our standard quizing of locals to find out what life in San Diego is like. She approved as soon as she learned that people do use the public transportation system there. I approved when I learned that our new friends, who weren’t that much higher up the employment chain than us, lived in one of the gorgeous apartments with a balcony and roof deck in the neighborhood. Ah, apartment envy….