April 13 - United States: San Diego, CA (Cardiff-By-the-Sea)
We had grand plans of going out for a hike in La Jolla this morning, but that hike just never seemed to materialize.
Jon and Mike went into Vista to pick up the car from the car mechanic (Volvo Bob). He sort of flaked and forgot to meet them at 10:00, but a quick phone call got him to show up a while later. Unfortunately, they were stuck in traffic because of an accident. So they didn't get back until 12:00 or so. That left plenty of time for Lynn and me to hang out and eat bagels on their back patio. Then the boys finally showed up and had bagels with us before beginning an afternoon of Wiffleball in the back yard.
Jon (left) and Mike (right) Playing Backyard Wiffleball
I spent the afternoon catching up on the journal writing. It was lovely for most of the day, but then became overcast again. I don't know if I mentioned that Mike and Lynn live a few blocks from the beach, so what Mike calls the "marine layer" of clouds is constantly overhead.
Tailgate at the Ballpark - Dodgers vs. Padres
Around 4:00ish, we loaded the grill and food into Mike's pick-up truck and headed off to Qualcomm Park. There, we parked, pulled out the grill and fired it up. For our yummy tailgate, we had chips and salsa, crackers and cheese, and sausages on buns with wine and beer. It really doesn't get much better than this.
At Qualcomm Park
After terribly over indulging on wine and beer, we headed off to the stadium and settled into our seats on the club level. We were a level higher than last night, and a bit further into the outfield, but they were still great seats. And since we were on the Club Level (which has fully carpeted hallways), we had our own personal waitress named Audrey. That didn't help much, considering we had to wait almost three innings for our order of drinks. But were happy when they were finally delivered.
The Gang At The Game
Batting Helmets
Last night, Mike came to the conclusion that "only assholes wear batting helmets to baseball games". After some scientific observations, we decided that he was right. The men in the batting helmets were invariably the loudest, most obnoxious, and usually the drunkest of all the fans. Mike said that these helmet-wearers are most often found at Yankees and/or Red Sox games. (Mike is a native New Jersey boy). So this helmet-thing was an ongoing joke for us throughout the game, and Lynn surprised us all when she snuck out to the bathroom and came back with an LA batting helmet and a Padres helmet. Of course, this only encouraged the two terrors behind us to act like idiots for the rest of the game. It was hysterical.
Batting Helmets From Hell
The Dodgers lost 6-4, but it didn't really matter to us after a few too many beers. We hung out in the parking lot until the traffic died down. The drive home was relatively quick because we'd missed the worst of the traffic. For whatever reason, we were completely entertained by the local radio station's "Get the Led Out" segment of Led Zeppelin favorites.
Midnight Wiffleball Game
I'm not sure how it happened, but we ended up in Mike and Lynn's backyard playing a midnight game of Wiffleball. Mike and Jon decided to coach me how to bat, seeing as how I haven't picked up a bat in 15 years or so. Lynn took it upon herself to beat the crap out of our "strike zone", which one of their plastic patio chairs, with the bat. Then she decided that it made a lovely hat. Obviously, we're all going to pay for this overindulgence tomorrow morning.
Lynn, Wearing Our Strike Zone