"I Don't Love You, But I Love IT"--A Traveler's Guide to San Diego

A few nibblets that will perhaps turn into a way too long post about a vacation you didn't go on, similar to when someone busts out the slideshow projector...


Wednesday morning we took to the Austin Straubel INTERNATIONAL Airport along with 4 other people to hop a plane to San Diego. In the airport, who do I spot flossin' with his Louis Vutton carryon and ballin' beret? Green Bay Packer Ryan Pickett. We totally hung out. Also, after a perusal of 1/4 inch photos from packers.com on my BlackBerry, I was able to ascertain with 75% certainty that rookie RB James Starks was with him, and by with him I mean sitting in coach with the rest of us poor people while Ryan Pickett was given a wide array of caviar and Dom P in 1st class. Pickett actually flew from Minneapolis to San Diego with us as well, although he either didn't check a bag or was moving onto a more tropical destination because he wasn't at baggage claim. He actually wasn't as big as I thought he would be. I mean, he was wide, but really short. Not as overly gigantic as he looks on TV. Upon arrival in SD we did nothing real special, had a tapas dinner and went to the bar on the roof of our hotel, which is pictured above (I didn't take that picture). You could have, if you so desired, brought some binocs and watched the game for free. Pretty cool.


Then Wednesday night happened. About 2:30 am PST, we were awoken to people, mostly a woman with a really, really annoying, grating voice with some sort of unidentified accent that I think was New Jersey, but could've been anything. The woman was yelling, swearing, and just all around obnoxious and drunk in the room next to us. A few minutes later things quieted down a bit and I dozed back asleep only to be woken up to screaming again. Only this time it was not bitching or arguing. It was the other thing. After about 30 minutes I was both impressed by the guy's stamina, although sure it could be attributed to what was going on prior to 2:30 which was likely large amounts of alcohol, and confident that the woman was faking her ass off. The screams, and simultaneous high decibel conversation that would interrupt the screams, were not something that could be done for real. It was obscene and awkward.


About 45 minutes later? Round 2. Same screaming. If you can hear exact words of someone through a hotel room wall, from what I presume was a bed on the other side of the room, you are just intentionally loud.


About an hour later? Round 3. This time we were introduced to the gentlemen who was named "Rick" (not making this shit up). And the quote of our vacation: "I don't love you, but I love IT". Which was screamed out by the woman. This quote convinced me that this woman was a pro. Because no normal person, even a random, whorry, one night stand, would say that to someone. We both laughed out loud when she said it. Also, the next day when we approached the desk to check if Rick had checked out, the person at the desk looked up the info, gave a smile like she knew what was going on there somehow, and assured us that Rick had checked out. We didn't hear from him the rest of the weekend, although we beat the joke into the ground. On Sunday morning we saw a chick with 90% of her ass hanging out of her daisy dukes leave the hotel by herself with no baggage, so I'm thinking that prostitution is prevelant in the area.


Thursday we went to the San Diego Zoo. We saw animals. A peacock shit on me. I'm not kidding. It was in a fucking tree over the bench I sat on. I fed a panda bear crack and it ODed.


Friday we went to the beach all day, which was pretty awesome. Pretty awesome that is after the cab driver taking us to Mission Beach got lost downtown, and then eventually took us to Ocean Beach, which is about 3 miles south of Mission Beach, and which also apparently houses 50% of the homeless population of San Diego, which is LARGE. Like way more than appear to live in New York large. Anyways, we walked up and down the beach, had some drinks, saw some hippies.


Friday night we took in Padres v. Nationals. The park itself was actually kind of disappointing. Other than the large grassy hill in right center that people can sit on (although I think you still have to buy a ticket), the ridiculous kids beach in center and the old warehouse in left, it was nothing special. I would rank it only slightly ahead of Kansas City for current MLB parks I've been to. The ranking is as follows: 1. Miller Park; 2. Yankee Stadium; 3. Target Field; 4. Petco Park; 5. Kaufman Stadium. Kaufman didn't suck though. The large problem at Petco was security. I sort of felt like being in prison, although without the forced anal rape, but with the cavity searches. I was seriously asked by ushers to show my ticket at least 4 times, and told "YOU CAN'T GO THERE!!" or "WHERE ARE YOU GOING??" at least 3 other times. There was an old woman in front of us that was guarding the two rows in front of us (which were empty) like her life depended on it. She wouldn't let anyone sit there, or even walk through the empty rows to get somewhere else. She would make them turn around walk all the way back where they came from. She would openly confront large groups of men, much bigger than her, to make them move. It was nuts. Oh, and did I mention that there about 15,000 people in a 45,000 seat stadium?? Memo to San Diego: Your team is in first place. Try showing up. A little effort would be nice. My brother and Bear would have been ejected.

Saturday we toured the USS Midway which is a huge fucking aircraft carrier used in WWII, Korea, Vietnam and Desert Storm. Really cool.

Sunday on the way home we traveled from Minneapolis to GB with Brandon Chillar, Quinn Johnson (70% sure based on 1/4 inch picture) and Brandon Chillar's hair. Chillar and his hair sat directly in front of us in the cheap seats. Johnson read a book. Chillar's hair smelled like chocolate chip cookies.

Overall, pretty good trip. The Gaslamp Quarter is borderline insane by like 7:30 p.m. I didn't stay out till bar time or even close, but the nearest comparison I had was Vegas in that it was warm and crowded. Of course minus the casinos. It would be fun place to go for a bender. It actually wasn't as expensive as I expected. There are great happy hours almost everywhere, and most have some kind of shitty-ish cheap beer/rails for cheap on the weeknights. Certain places were expensive of course (see $8 Fat Tire at the hotel bar above), but if you made it your mission you could drink pretty cheap. Since I wasn't trying to buy gas, real estate or underground water aquifers, I feel semi-confident that it is a myth that California is really that much more expensive than the Midwest. Oh, and if there is ever a war where homeless people attack non-homeless people, San Diego will be the homeless people's capital.