I drank martinis with a girl at the Crab Catcher last night in La Jolla. I’d never met her before, but a sorority sister of mine e-introduced us. The girl just moved back with her parents after living in NYC for 8 years. Ah! Do I hear “support group”?
I told her about my idea to move to downtown San Diego, as the perfect transition from Manhattan, and to retain some city life…and be able to walk to the grocery store. But she said, “Why move all the way to California and not be near the beach?” I mean, I’d be near the Pacific Ocean, but not near any waves I could swim in. I would be near a bay.
Who lives downtown, anyway? What am I trying to prove? Am I trying to be different from my family and get some distance (about 25 minutes)? Why? I like the beach. (Admittedly, some nature grosses me out—I accidentally cut off the tail of a lizard when I set down a table in the garage last week. Ewww.) Well, it all depends on where I get a job.
Anyway, my new friend and I were pleased to learn that happy hour in La Jolla lasts ‘til 9 p.m., and that our drinks were just $5 each!! The Crab Catcher was completely empty when we left. We closed the place down at 10:30! My car was locked in the parking garage. I peered through the grate and saw it sitting all by its lonesome. I had to take a special elevator to get it. Yeesh! Bedtime is early around these parts.