Day 7-LA County Dept. of Health urges masking when indoors

At the beach…

B. and I ate here for dinner…

7/5/21. Monday

8:30 – 9:00 - I’m up and I make coffee, then relax and enjoy the morning. 

9:30 – 10:30 - By 9:30, I’ve finished my “daily allotment” [1 cup] but something is off and I have a bad headache [6 on a scale of 1-10]. I take two Advil and jump in the shower. Lotion. Tank top and shorts. Light make-up.

10:30-11:30 – B. got a tip from the Concierge regarding a breakfast place.  She recommended the Golden Valley Café so we make that our destination. We take the elevator down to the 12th floor, then walk through The Shining bar to the second set of elevators for the parking garage, and take that elevator to the 11th floor. Find the car and drive from the 11th floor to the 7th floor, narrowly missing the bumpers at every turn [due to the tight radius] and scraping the tires on the sides of the cement pilings, then enter the ‘toboggan tunnel’, where we can barely move, as we ‘circle the drain’ and emerge onto the street.  Picture this sequence of events every time we take the car. I mask the entire time.

Once we emerge from the parking garage, navigating the numerous one-way streets commences. It is difficult to tell the difference between downtown Los Angeles, where I worked for 4 years, and downtown San Diego. I don’t know how B. does it – I would have crashed the car already. We drive around looking for the Golden Valley Café, but all we can find is the abandoned and boarded up Golden Valley Jewelry and Loan. Uh, do they mean “pawn shop”? We can’t find the café and circle the block twice, then realize it’s across the street, on the opposite corner. There is ONE parking spot available.

11:30-12:30 – The café is reminiscent of an old 50’s diner and by that I mean I think it was actually built in the 1950s. It’s a standard breakfast menu, with cheap eats and huge portions.  There is indoor and outdoor dining [3 small tables on the sidewalk] and it. is. packed.  That’s how I know the food is good.  There is nowhere to sit outside and one booth available inside, so we take it.  Wait staff and me are masked; none of the other customers bother.  BUT, there are 4 ceiling fans on full blast and the front door is propped open for air flow - I can tell that they’re trying. 

I have a headache like you wouldn’t believe.  More Advil. I’m not feeling anything on the menu so I order a hot tea and breakout the “overnight oats” that I packed on Sunday and put in my backpack this morning. I feel shaky, like I might vomit, and I’m alternating between hot and cold.  What is wrong with me? Am I having a stroke?

B. gets…something??? and I try not to focus on how sick I’m feeling.  B. pronounces the food “good.”  He pays the check and we head back to the hotel so we can change for the beach.

12:30 – 1:30…and it’s the parking situation all over again.  “Toboggan tunnel” to the 7th floor, then “bumper cars” to the 11th floor, elevator to the 12th floor lobby, then second set of elevators to the 23rd floor, back inside our hotel room, where I realize I accidentally had DECAF this morning. I thought my headache felt like a caffeine withdrawal headache!! but I couldn’t figure out why.  I make a cup of regular coffee ASAP, drink it down, and feel 100% better.

B. and I decide to go to the beach. Of course, we have to go to Coronado, because that lady who gave us the boogie boards yesterday, the “beach whisperer”, said we must go to Coronado. This might sound ‘woo-woo’, but I frequently ask myself, “What is the universe flowing to me?” [this is a reference to The Lively Show podcast] and this encounter is more than a coincidence…a stranger appeared and told us to go to…Coronado. And so, we will go to Coronado.  It is our destiny.

B. and I leave. “We take the elevator down to the 12th floor, then walk through The Shining bar to the second set of elevators for the parking garage, and take that elevator to the 11th floor. Find the car and drive from the 11th floor to the 7th floor, narrowly missing the bumpers at every turn [due to the tight radius] and scraping the tires on the sides of the cement pilings, then enter the ‘toboggan tunnel’, where we can barely move, as we ‘circle the drain’ and emerge onto the street.” 

You get the drill.  From this point forward, I’m just going to write “Toboggan tunnel” whenever we drive anywhere. 

We drive across the bridge to Coronado [North Island] and arrive in the town square.  There are several round-abouts and it’s confusing as hell.  I don’t know how B. does it – the SUV is so big, there is barely room to maneuver, but he does a great job with navigation.  B. and I drive in the direction of the beach and there. is. no. parking. AT ALL.  In fact, we drive around the entire island [it’s small] and there is nothing.  We do find one lone parking space in front of a CVS, 3 miles from the beach, but a frat boy is standing in it. B. and I contemplate parking there, but the frat boy angrily yells, “I’m holding this for my friend.”  Yes, dear reader, the parking situation is so horrible that pedestrians have resorted to standing in the parking space until the actual car can arrive.

“What is the universe flowing to me?”  Nothing, it would seem. Coronado was a horrible idea – I curse the day we ran into that lady in the parking structure.

B. and I leave.  We actually have to leave!  There is not one parking spot available on this entire island.

1:30-2:30 – The day is slipping away and we really wanted to go to the beach. B. suggests Mission Beach instead. Back across the Coronado Bridge we go – I will never return – and we’re en route to Mission. We see a beach!  With a parking garage! But wait a minute…this place looks just like Venice Beach.  Very sketchy and dirty. In fact, this is NOT Mission Beach… it’s Pacific.

We park, but I’m kind of afraid to get out of the car. And I can’t quite figure out how to reach the street from the parking garage.  Eventually, we find a stairwell…too bad all of the stairs smell like piss. We emerge and see that we’re just steps away from white sand and ocean.  I can’t believe it!  We made it! I unroll my beach blanket and set up camp – B. returns to the SUV for our beach chairs. We’ve arrived!

3:00-6:00 – We stay for 3 hours.  It’s really nice, although a little chilly. B. goes swimming and I sit in my chair and do nothing. Perfect!  At some point, I eat my leftover pork and rice and beans from last night – it tastes even better the next day! Cold or hot. Great time at the beach!

6:00-7:00 – There are no public restrooms here, only porta-potties. I refuse to use a porta-pottie, so B. and I walk upstairs to the bar to use their bathroom.  The bouncer lets us pass.  I’m masked, of course, and there is a line for the Lady’s Room. This place is filled with young people (no masks) – they’re probably Covid carriers – and the wait is so long, a young woman tells her friend, “I’m going to step out – I can’t take breathing this air.”  I thought young people didn’t care about the pandemic??? It’s finally my turn, but there is no toilet paper available in any stall.  I’m forced to use a paper towel.

I’m ready to leave Pacific Beach.

B. and I drive to our hotel. Toboggan Tunnel. Elevators. Hotel Suite.

7:00-9:30 – B. suggests we go to dinner at an Italian restaurant called Asti Restauranti, so we strike out on foot.  The homeless situation seems much worse than last night – maybe they were overrun by pedestrians on the 4th of July and had to scurry back to their tents around 5:00, before the throng of people converged on the sidewalks.  Tonight, though, there are crazy people walking around and shouting – B. and I have to zig-zag from sidewalk to sidewalk to avoid screaming transients, talking to no one and hitting themselves.  B. is armed. He’s also carrying OC Spray.

We finally find Asti Restauranti and are given the choice of eating inside or outside.  I ask to see inside and it is hot and humid, packed, and no circulating air. No. I opt for an outside table – even the waitress says, “I get it – it’s really hot inside.” One outside table is crammed between several others – no social distancing – and the other table is at the edge of the sidewalk, as so many outside tables are positioned these days, pandemic-style. I opt for the sidewalk table because it is furthest away from the diners, although B. and I are in danger of getting clipped by one of the numerous semi-trucks that are barreling down the street.  Traffic is mere inches away from our table.

The food is incredible!  I order a glass of prosecco, the Caprese [mozzarella cheese served with heirloom tomatoes and basil] and a bowl of the Pasta Fagioli soup.  B. gets…something??? They bring homemade bread to the table and it is sooo good!  We have another round of drinks along the way. Something positive – this place takes our special “blue” card (the Marriott discount card B. received at check-in that some of the Gas Lamp restaurants honor) so there’s a 15% discount.  I reminded B. to ask the waiter about the card, so I take full credit for the discount (smile emoji here).

9:30-10:00 – We walk back to our hotel and the streets are deserted - civilians seem to know when it’s dangerous to be on foot – except for a few dirty transients, walking along the sidewalks and screaming. B. is 6’2” and, in general, intimidating – he also has a loud, baritone voice.  If I wasn’t with him, I’d be terrified.

10:00 – 11:30 – Arrive at our hotel room. I have a night cap and B. and I watch the documentary WeWork: Or the Making and Breaking of a $47 Billion Unicorn. He likes it.

B. discovers he has lost his OC Spray (sad face emoji).  It must have fallen out of his pocket.

11:30-12:15 – Nighttime routine. Bed. A nice day!