I’m sure you’ve wondered where liquid libation experts go when the sun comes up.
Well, actually we slink away to our shiny castles in the hills, and silently close our coffins to slumber away the day safe from the dangerous sun’s rays. We can’t be seen in public. We have a reputation to protect. Or ruin.
People act kinda strange when they see me outside of the bar and not hounding them for their credit card and ID. I guess they just assume that I’m a wind-up automaton that plugs himself into the wall after last call. Though some nights it does feel like it.
I have to say that having my days free to do as I please is definitely one of the perks of the job. I get to spend all day doing whatever my daughter will allow me to do. Most of the people I know are forced to sit inside, sadly staring out the window at the beautiful San Diego weather wishing they were anywhere but sitting inside. Neiner neiner.
I was in Los Angeles recently and, despite having an exhaustingly good time there, I was glad to be floating down I-5 again. The nightlife there is a blast, but it’s the little things you miss about home.
Like being able to watch the surf and snowboard in the same day if you wanted to. Not too many cities other than
San Diego can boast that kind of unlimited, freewheeling entertainment atmosphere.
But yes, I do know a few people who bitch and moan about how cold San Diego is. Perplexed as I am by this, I guess they must be out of their minds and lived in some kind of tropical microwave or something.
I don’t know about you, but being transformed into a sweaty bog beast the instant I step outside my air-conditioned house and the idea of showering 15 times a day doesn’t really tickle my pickle as a fun time.
I mean, yeah, we have a few earthquakes a year, but at least those are somewhat entertaining. They break a few plates, knock a painting off the wall and call it a day. Hurricanes bash out all your windows and give you a new Jacuzzi where your living room used to be. Luckily for us, tornados tend to only target mobile homes in the south.
I find it hard to believe that people still live in Arizona or Nevada. I mean, it’s the desert. Yeah, I know everyone has AC and everything, but it’s the desert. The only reason I can think of to go live in that sandy wasteland is if it’s Las Vegas. Otherwise, they can keep their angry lizards and cactus lifestyle.
Or those poor bastards who live in frigid climates and have to dig their cars out of the snow every morning. You know, I firmly believe that mornings suck bad enough without having to do manual labor before you even get to work.
I have to admit; sometimes it’s easy to take San Diego for granted. There are so many things to do, so many varied ways to spend our time that some people get jaded and complacent about how lucky we have it here. I’ve been all over the planet, but there’s nothing quite as calming as getting on a plane, or driving in a car back to our sunny little southern slice of paradise.
Now if I can just figure out how to convince everyone else to move out of California …
Filed Under: Doorman Diaries