50,000 Milloinaire Hippies Can't (always) be Wrong

Ah Monterey.... Probably my favorite place in the world. This picture doesn't begin to do it justice. Any beautiful place you've been to you can forget about. Seen the Rockies? -frozen rocks. Been to the beaches of Florida? -muggy sandbox. Fall in New England? -dead leaves. There are beautiful places and then there is the central coast. Meg Ryan is a pretty woman but stand her next to Heidi Klum and she might as well be Roseanne Arnold.

My hotel was called Butterfly Grove because it is the largest butterfly sanctuary in America. A couple mornings I had to shoo away a deer from my car. There are otters and seals playing in the water below you and whales in the distance if you pay attention. The most beautiful golf courses in the world are there and the world's most exclusive auto show in the world is held ON a fairway. Are you getting my point? I could go on but I'm sure It's getting tedious.

Every night I soaked in my jacuzzi tub watching the fireplace listening to the waves crash and thought, "Who do I have to kill to live here?" If you made the list you'll know soon. I spent a lot of my spare time climbing around on the rocks looking in tide pools. Not something you can do in Arizona. On a drive south towards Big Sur I saw a sign that read "Coastal Access" that led to a footpath as it turned out. I have since written a letter to the Coastal Commission of California explaining that in the interest of public safety it should read "Coastal Access (not you fat boy)" During the parts when I was sliding down the hill on my ass I should have been thinking of how exactly I was going to climb out in loafers but I didn't let something as petty as survival instinct get in my way.

After my little brush with natural selection I stopped at Rocky Point Grill which is where I took the picture above. That has to be the most enjoyable beer I've ever had. I was overlooking the most famous spot on the PCH, glad to be alive (and picking gravel out of my elbows) and watching whales work their way north. You can't actually see the whales just their puffs as the cruise by in the distance. What was neat about that was watching the infrequent big puffs interspersed with the more frequent little puffs as the mothers guided their calves up the coast. Sigh.....

I've done the math and if I sell my condo and my car, sell my plasma weekly and adapt to a diet of ramen and Totino's pizzas I can afford to live in a converted port-o-john in Carmel. After a couple years I could sell and use the equity to move into a tool shed in Pacific Grove. If I keep it up by the time I'm 80 I can sell my condo and buy South Dakota. Plan B: Practice until I can do origami with my tongue and cruise the bingo parlors looking for a "sponsor". Don't judge me people - Anna Nicole Smith's husband looked like a turkey neck in a wheelchair.

Orange Diego

Today's entry is a combination of Orange County and San Diego. Are they the same place? - No. Are they close enough and am I so lazy that I'm not going to write individual posts - Yes. Come on, I'm not the first guy to squish similar places together - worked in Yugoslavia right? For a while anyway.

Let's start with a basic premise: L.A. sucks. What it lacks in hospitality it makes up for with pollution, traffic, expense and crime. Everyone in L.A. has some grand scheme that isn't working out somehow. And you, having stumbled into their lives through some cruel twist of fate, are dirtying their ambiance with your presence - or so their look tells you. "I said no foam Trevor - remember, great art comes from suffering so suffer your way over to the latte machine and try again. And here's a tip, take out the eyeball piercing before your next job interview."

That being said Orange County is not L.A. It does have some of the faults - Traffic can be rough and it is expensive. But traffic isn't that bad and it's not too insanely expensive. I spent a good chunk of my week at the Newport Pier. There's a great little bar/grill at the end of it. Primary difference between O.C. and L.A. is the people and that's what matters most wherever you go. I had so many good conversations there. And you feel legitimately welcome there. The J Crew model bartenders even invited me to go wounded bunny hunting Valentine's night. I've never been one for victimizing emotionally vulnerable women but it was nice to be invited.

San Diego is a beautiful city and holds a lot of fond memories. As a kid growing up in Phoenix San Diego was the obvious escape from the summer blast furnace. My first pro baseball game with my dad was in S.D., my first swim in the ocean was in S.D., my first visit to a restaurant more fun than Village Inn was in S.D. - I could go on. Stone brewery, bistro and gardens was awesome! San Diego zoo was a kick. Ocean Beach was a lovely collection of head shops and mostly naked girls strolling by. Killer mexican food everywhere. In short I could be very happy in S.D. - if somebody paid my rent.

When I find myself getting frustrated with California traffic I put on the shades, roll down the windows and roll back the sunroof to let the 75 degree salt breeze blow through and crank up the stereo. I'm gonna get sick of California if they keep sending me there...but not yet.