Poo-Ville, The Afterlife, and The Onion

Day 1

29.63 Miles

Mom drives us miles down the dirt road toward the U.S./Mexican border. We fiddle with our gear and pose in front of a sign for photos until an official-looking person comes over to tell us not to ride to the border.

Human-Contaminated-Sewage, he says. Don’t get anywhere near any water.

No Touching.

We smile and nod and think about it and then head down to the border. He wasn’t kidding. The road around the corner was flooded. We took selfies with the contaminated sewage and the Border Wall somewhere beyond.

The Poos Down in Poo-Ville.

And then we began to ride. Border Patrol helicopters whack-whack-whacking overhead, maybe checking us out with some high-tech binoculars.

‘We’re relatively harmless’, I think. Move along.

The dirt road switched so gradually to pavement, we barely noticed it happen. The potholes began to disappear and the style of homes upgraded as the road improved. And then we were riding on a bike path along a curvy stretch of water and grass and tall, tall palm trees. Too tall to offer any shade. The ocean harbor, dotted with boats and giant masts, majestic and waiting to wander around. The glass water kissing the sides of the boats, worshiping them. If I were a fish, that’s where I’d live. The sun glorious and warm on my back. The houses neat and tidy and facing the ocean and tucked together in such a way that it probably didn’t bother them to be so close to their neighbors. The very reason people move to California.

They were all different.  Each unique. Each doctored up and fancy and reflecting different eras in time. Magical. Jennie found one for sale and crossed the road to take a gander at the price. It was the only unassuming house on the street. It needed a new screen door and new windows and maybe a second story and the kind of attention the others had been enjoying.

But it was $3.25 million.

The very reason no one moves to California.

We took the flier to show mom and laugh about it later.

Perfect parks and beaches and sky and temperature and polite drivers. Perfectly paved bike paths and one of those days where I wondered if I’d died and didn’t remember how and this was really The Afterlife.

We missed the ferry by about ten minutes, so we sat on the beach in the shade under a much shorter palm tree and ate PB&J with gluten-free bread and avocados and waited for the next ferry to come along.

On the other side, we cruised past The Del and past more perfect beaches. Lots of in-shape people rollerblading without shirts and runners with the smallest shorts you could still consider clothing. But we saw a taco place and that was that. We crammed into a tiny table next to all the drunk tourists and ordered chips and salsa and called Mom.

She picked us up outside and the bikes were happy to be done for the day and she took us to a hotel. She’d imagined spending time on the beach, sitting and reading and enjoying the day. Instead she ended up at the San Diego Zoo, lovin’ on the anteaters and leopards and monkeys and the tram ride too. She bought a thirteen dollar tiny-tube of sunscreen and cute sunhat and had a wonderful time.

The Front Desk lady at the hotel gave us a list of the restaurants in the area but only circled one.

Go Here, she said. This Is the Correct-Place-to-Eat.

Okay then.

We parked at The Union Brewery, and Jennie was tired and thought it was a clever way to spell The Onion Brewery and we laughed until we choked and she had to ask the waitress to verify the correct pronunciation. She looked at Jennie like she was a darling lost puppy and asserted it was pronounced Youn-Yun.

I ate the most amazing pork chop on the planet with some black eyes peas and smoked ham hocks and baby spinach and spiced apple sauce. Tried super hard not to lick my plate. Such things are frowned upon in public.

We sat in the hot tub and Jennie sank down until a jet hit her in the neck and she sighed with happiness and I smiled at her little sweet face.

Mom was in the room reading and doing stuff on her tablet, so we joined her and we were happy and warm and satisfied.

The three of us giggled into the evening. Like teenagers. Like adults. Like children.

Day 2 would be here soon.