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.