San Diego, Day 3: Like…Chill, Dude

6:00am…I’ve only been asleep for three hours and I’m wide awake. Damn you, time change! My head is cursing me for my self-induced, nocturnal debauchery.

Being chic in San Diego comes at a price.

Comparable to the aftermath of an earthquake, I’m disoriented and shaky. The past two days have been a ten on the entertainment Richter scale—great company, incredible food, and fun in the California sun.

I’m supposed to drive up to Los Angeles for my final day, but my exhausted body is revolting. Sometimes too much fun has a debilitating effect.

I think of Winston, one of the dogs my friend Devon babysat this weekend. Would Winston run around in circles chasing his tail until he collapsed for the sake of enjoyment?

Nah. He would take one look at my non-stop vacation itinerary, snort, and go back to sleep.

A legitimate Cali pooch, Winston would speak human just long enough to say, “Like…chill, dude.”

Hence, the fatiguing, back-and-forth Los Angeles voyage is scrapped. Today is all about doing nothing, something I rarely remember to do.

Devon stays behind to tend to her platform shoe wounds. Naeiry and I decide to make a downtown day of it, leisure style.

After downing a magical elixir in the form of carrot juice and a few hours of gabbing, we stroll to Hash House for a late afternoon brunch, figuring it was the only way to get in the place. There is always an absurd wait (a.k.a. severely tasty grub).

It’s about a two-mile walk in mid-eighty degree temps, and I’m sweating out various beers and chintzy champagne from the night before. It feels good to get around by foot, an everyday activity I’m used to at home.

California harbors a car culture. My traffic highlight for the weekend…it took us forty-five minutes to go eleven miles. It kindly reminded me of one of the SoCal cons I can definitely live without.

Even at closing, we wait a half hour to squeeze in for brunch at Hash House. The portions are ginormous here! We share the mushroom, artichoke, and spinach hash and leave our biscuit untouched.

A doll of a waitress brings us a free Bloody Mary. I don’t ask questions, I just enjoy.

Now that the kitchen is closed, tunes are pumped up and the wait staff is smiling and dancing. Oddly, there’s a bit of a soiree.

Seated in the back corner, we crane our necks to investigate the source of cheers and applause in the main dining area. And, look at the cuties we discovered…

On the way home, we make a pit stop at Cremolose for coffee. Reminiscent of European cafes, I can’t ignore the chocolate cream puff calling my name in the cheerful case.

I feel that the next photo merits an explanation. Naeiry and I got on the subject of lips, and I explained that having larger lips as a child was a traumatic experience.

The boys made fun of me constantly. So, I spent a good year or two sporting smaller lips by sucking them in. This is our small lips attempt…

I round off my non-scheduled day grilling back at Devon’s house with her and her hubby. Rosemary chicken, scallops, trusty beer, and lounging around are just the reset I need before my long flight home, clear across the country.

Finally I’m relaxing on my vacation and wouldn’t you know it—it’s time to leave.

How many of us do this every time we travel? Museums, excursions, bar-hopping, restaurants, attractions…phew! Guess that’s why we feel we need a vacation from the vacation.

I miss my new home and must say goodbye to my old one. So long humiliating waves, pretentious art, endless traffic, and city noise.

I’m ready to go back to my little, quiet Milwaukee, where I can look across icy Lake Michigan, pretend it’s my very own Midwest ocean, and have my favorite piece of SoCal.