San Diego Trip Report

So I took a not-so-well-deserved jaunt down to San Diego last weekend. These are my stories.

Friday morning I woke up craving tacos. Not just any tacos, but Tijuana tacos. If you know about Tijuana tacos, you know what I'm talking about. So I head down to TJ, and by lunchtime I am happily eating tacos at Taco Bell. "Taco Bell?" you say. Yes. Taco Bell.



There are taco stands right across the border where you can by TJ tacos for a dollar a piece, which, in Tijuana terms, is a huge rip-off. If you just walk a few minutes, over the Tijuana River and towards Avenida Revolucion, the price drops to three for a dollar and there aren't as many middle-aged gringos in Hawaiian shirts to annoy you.

By the way, Tijuana "River" is sort of a misnomer. At some point, I'm sure it was an actual river. But now, it's just an open sewer. Literally. Foul smelling, and if you look closely, which I do not advise, you can actually see some floaters. I mention this because on my way back to the US and A, I saw one of the saddest things I ever done did see. So, next time you get irritated because Gray's Anatomy was pre-empted or something, think of this:



My camera sucks, so let me tell you what that is. That is a homeless man, with only one arm, crossing the open sewer known as the Tijuana River. Under his stump, he is holding a hubcap and some hangers. Only he knows why. Upon crossing the river, he immediately threw up. Lucky for you, I didn't get that picture.

After TJ, I headed to Silver Strand State Beach. It's got a bit more seaweed than other SD beaches, but the tradeoff is that there is hardly anyone there, so my fat ass can take off my shirt without scarying everyone.



After the beach, headed up to Poway to see my friend Avery. From his house we headed downtown, picked up a German and a Lithuanian, and went to see the Hard-On's and the Queers at the Casbah. Good show. I took video, but it sucks. My camera sucks six ways to Sunday as the following pictures attest.



I was staying with my friend Karla, and last time I came down, I sort of played a part in getting her car towed. So to pay her back, I drove her down to Tecate, Mexico to see her ill grandmother. Am I a nice guy or what? Tecate was actually kind of cool. You get the whole Mexico thing without people always barking at you, asking if you want beer. Or sunglasses. Or jewelry. Or massage. Or sucky sucky. Also, I had a taco that made TJ tacos taste like a (the American) Taco Bell.

I wanted to go to the Padres game Saturday night, since there was a chance that Trevor Hoffman would tie the all time major league record for saves. But getting back over the border in Tecate took forever, so I was late. By the time I got there, the game was sold out, so I had to watch the jumbotron in the outfield from behind the gates like some shunned leper:



Trevor did end up tying the record. Yay Trevor!



After the game there were fireworks!



And midget love!



From there, headed to Valentine's to get me a San Diego style burrito. To all Mexican restaraunts and taco shops not located in San Diego, Cali For Nigh A, this is how a burrito is done motherfuckers:



Do you see any pansy ass rice and beans in there? NO! Carne Asada, Guacamole, Salsa, Sour Cream, Hot Sauce. No Filler. You may think that picture looks kinda gross. I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Sunday, I did manage to make it to the game, but my seats were in Bumfuck, Egypt:



The Padres had a one run lead going to the bottom of the ninth, which meant it was Trevor Time, and I had a chance to witness baseball history. If he could get three outs he would become the all-time MLB saves leader. So I headed down to a standing room area behind the plate and took some videos with my shitty camera.

This is Hoffman coming into the game:



And this is Hoffman getting the last out to break the record:



These are the things that make grown men cry. I planned my trip knowing there was a slight chance I could be there to witness it, but knowing how my life goes, I didn't think it would actually happen. Yet it did. The perfect ending to a perfect weekend.

Of course it was really hard to get on the plane back to Sacramento. But I've met a lot of quality people in Northern California since I've been up here, so it could have been a lot worse. So if you're one of those people, thanks. You're the difference between me wanting to go back to San Diego but tolerating Sacramento and me being in a hopeless state of depression until I do.