San Diego

Went to San Diego, a true world class city, for a few days last week on a work-related matter. Karen and I stayed in the Gaslamp Hilton. I saw an amazing thing at our hotel. You know how nice hotels usually provide you with a tray of snacks? If you take a snack, the maid will take inventory the next day and bill you for it. Well, at our hotel, there was a tray of snacks with a sign that read: “This tray has an electronic sensor. If you take a snack off the tray for more than 20 seconds, you will be billed for it.” So, basically, I could take a snicker bar, hold it in my hand for 21 seconds, not eat it, put it back, and pay for it. Amazing!

I had a great time with Karen. We both discovered we have yet another thing in common – a mutual love for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. She is the first person I’ve met who also knows that you should NEVER buy one at a gas station – ‘cuz they often taste like chalk. The only way to guarantee the freshness of your Reese’s is to buy it at a grocery store. Just so you know! ;-)

After experiencing the charm of San Diego, I wondered to myself why we didn’t move there instead. Then, over dinner (if you guys have never been to Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse, I highly recommending forking over the dough to go), I talked to a friend named Mary and she told me that a 500 sq. ft. house in her neighborhood is for rent in the amount of $2,000 per month. I think that may have had something to do with why we didn’t move to San Diego.

On my return flight on Southwest, I was the last person to get on the plane. I was on my cell phone and didn’t feel like standing in line with the rest of the mob to get a good seat. Of course, when I finally got on, I wanted to sit as near the front of the plane as possible. I didn’t see any seats available anywhere near the front except on Row 5, in between these two old guys engaged in conversation. I decided I could tolerate them talking over me and sat down. What I didn’t realize until I sat down was the fact that these guys smelled to high heaven! (No wonder the seat was still available.) Turns out they were fishing addicts. All they talked about the whole way to Sacramento was about their fishing adventures and escapades. I surmised that these two gents had just got back from a two-week, shower-free fishing trip on the Pacific. I tried to breathe through my mouth for the duration of the flight to avoid the stench. After a while, I forgave the smell and thought it was really cute how excited these two old men were about their hobby. “Ya really need a double hook for that kind . . . two of those will fill up yer freezer . . . they taste good smoked, too . . . hoo, hoo, hoo . . . did ya see Billy’s new boat . . .” Upon arriving in Sacramento, they looked out the window, and both agreed that it “looks like a good day to fish! Hoo, hoo, hoo.”