So I finally got myself down to San Diego.

My weekend started Thusday evening, July 20th, 2000. After waiting an extra forty-five minutes for a late Southwest 737, and after standing in line with a ten or twelve year old girl that kept staring at me (your guess is as good as mine), I finally boarded my flight down. Turned out I was sharing a plane with Governor Gray Davis, but I didn't get any pix because he looked real busy (and had a very attentive body guard). Despite being in the last boarding group, I managed to find an open right side window seat, and enjoyed a rather nice sunset that I bet few others on the flight noticed.

Burbank turned out to be kind of an interesting little airport. I like the fact that you can deplane using stairs, and get a real close look at your jet, but it's got narrow (read: mildly claustrophobic) halls and dim lighting. Kind of a ghetto look, especially at night, but on the plus side it took almost zero time to get from the gate to the baggage carousel, and less than zero time to get out to the curb once I had my bag.

I spent the rest of thursday night being shown around the area between Burbank and Westwood, and getting a glimpse of the LA nightlife around the Sunset strip. Much more lively than the non-existant Sacramento scene, but looked a little too pricey for my modest tastes. We caught a late dinner at Jerry's Deli before heading off to Westwood and Mark's apartment.

I had lunch Friday with Amy at California Pizza Kitchen. I didn't know it was so classy - for some reason I always thought the one at Arden Fair was really ghetto, but I guess I was mistaken. Spent the rest of the day touring UCLA (quite a nice campus) and the Museum of Television and Radio, and then it was off to LAX to pick up Brian.

We had dinner at an Outback just south of Orange County, where there were a couple of cute (and really friendly) hostesses. My caesar salad wasn't so great, but the atmosphere was. Then it was another hour or two down to La Jolla and Troy's apartment. Coffee at Cafe 976, followed by some wandering around Pacific Beach at night.

Caught brunch Saturday at a breakfast diner called Broken Yolk in PB, and then drove around San Diego a bit. We ended up on Coronado island, walking around the beach by the Hotel del Coronado. I can't think of a more graphic illustration of the poor state of America's physical health than the sight of that beach. I hope the Los Angeles area surf looks better than this, otherwise my faith in Southern California as the reservoir of gorgeous people is completely shattered.

Troy introduced us to a plane-spotting site right off the approach end of San Diego's airport, where we stayed for about half an hour. The first plane over the hill was an MD-80, which was damn loud and looked a lot bigger than I thought it would. I bet it was a little low on the glidescope (not such a good idea considering the tall parking garage right off the end of the runway), but the end effect was darn impressive. We stayed right until the the 5pm BA 747, and then it was off to Troy's to nap for a couple hours.

Dinner was at a budget sushi restaurant, followed by a night of clubbing with a couple of Troy's friends. I've decided that clubbing is generally only fun with 1. good music, and 2. a group of good friends. The lackluster music and not-knowing-very-many-people-there made for an average experience, but the night wasn't a total loss. Troy has a friend named Grace, and somebody I know (*cough*) better ask her out, because she is wow(!!) cute.

We passed an hour or so afterwards at a cigar bar elsewhere in the Gaslamp district. It had a wonderfully casual atmosphere, and was a nice place to loosen up - kind of an oasis in the otherwise classy environs of the historic SD district. (Next time I'll remember to leave the running shoes at home...)

Sunday meant lunch at Ranch 99, and coffee boba for Mark and Troy. A visit to Mission Beach, a walk down a mini-jetty, and parking undetected in the red zone for twenty minutes rounded out our weekend. A three hour drive up to Burbank dropped me off at the airport just in time to wait two hours for another uncharacteristically late Southwest jet.

Whew.