Who needs an alarm? It was 5:30am, and all of a sudden Walter lifted up and plunked down. And then again. It felt like an elephant sitting on the bumper. We shot out of bed in a hazy panic and peered out the window, expecting to see a hooded bandit trying to pry his way into Walter’s rear. Wait, that didn’t sound quite right. But you have to understand, our ears are always pricked for any sign that we might be robbed in the rear where Isabella normally sits. It must be the result of sleeping in shady RV parks and Walmarts all down the coast. This was a sound like no other. It was dark and drizzly outside, and the sound had no face.
Suddenly we realized that huge gusts of wind were pushing up our awning and dumping it down again, just as if Walter spread a bat wing that caught the muggy air. It’s only the second time we’ve put that damn thing up, and each time we have to pull it down so the wind won’t knock us over. Stumbling to the door, I clumsily pulled on some boots and helped Trav lower the awning through the moist, whipping wind. The strange rocking ceased! And thankfully, that storm symbolized the last of the rain that plagued San Diego for the last three days. Out like a lion.
The rest of the day wasn’t as eventful. But it sure was fun! And warm. Officially the first day we could strip down to t-shirts and work on the tans. Things we’re noticing about San Diego so far:
- Velour. Women everywhere are wearing velvet track suits. Stores are selling them for $6.99 a pop, so I guess they make a sensible purchase, but where does the original demand come from? Not flattering, even on a nice bum.
- The drug of choice here appears to be heroin. Lots of folks floating around high as kites. But no crack walks or strange meth eye twitches like in Calgary. Definitely another breed of drug at work. Next week, we will stage a city-wide intervention in the beachfront bathroom stalls.
- There seems to be a high proportion of double cane walkers here. I think the loan sharks are out with a vengeance. Both knee caps. Bang! That’ll guarantee repayment.
- San Diegans love their football. Like, more than Calgarians love their hockey. They love it so much, they form massive football pub orgies and cheer for the pre-game game, and then stay for the actual game so they can shred their vocal cords to fleshy ground beef. Bring on the nachos!
- Beach bikes are like toothbrushes here. Everyone has one. I don’t feel special with my Neapolitan bike (chocolate brown, pink rims, white tires). But I will when we get back to the cold face of hell. I mean, Calgary. Sorry YYC.
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