Road Rage

One of the biggest negatives for me about living in San Diego is the way people drive. It's kind of a double-edged sword, since the drive-60-in-the-passing-lane drivers in Seattle were the opposite problem, but the drivers here consistently show little patience. It's almost as if they drive around with their hand half an inch from the horn, prepared to honk as soon as anyone slows them down or offends them in any way. I hear it each and every day from my desk at the intersection near my workplace, and if I ever act remotely courteous to a pedestrian or bicyclist in a cross-walk, I am guaranteed to get the horn myself.

This evening, I decided to tempt fate on my way home from work. Getting one the entrance ramp to the freeway, there is a crosswalk where a bicyclist was waiting to cross. The five cars in front of my zoomed past as though he wasn't even there. I chose to stop and let him cross, causing an immediate backup of five cars behind me, one of which thought it necessary to lay on his horn. Naturally, as soon as we all entered the freeway, he felt it his civic duty to race up to me and pass me, flashing the inevitable hand gesture at me on his way by. Why? I wish just once I was able to ask such people why they are in such a hurry, or why what I did was wrong (even though it is technically following the law). Of course, I'll never know, but it makes for uneasy driving experiences everywhere I go. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, but there's absolutely no need for driving to be covered by this rule.

People from the East Coast just think this is par for the course. But having just spent five years in The City That Was Afraid To Beep, I've learned to appreciate the lack of noise pollution that is such a constant here.

Trip to Catalina

This past weekend, Tracy and I took advantage of our free overnight to Catalina Island, courtesy of a timeshare company from last summer who gave us the sales pitch. It turned out to be a really worthwhile investment of our time, since I think we both enjoyed the island immensely. The deal included round trip transportation from Newport Beach to the island, a night at a hotel, and a glass-bottom boat tour. We also used the trip as an excuse to go geocaching, and were two-for-two in our searches.

Catalina Island is quite breathtaking, covered almost completely by hills and mountains aside from the small town where most of the locals live, Avalon. Golf carts are the preferred mode of transportation, and -- maybe it was just the time of year -- it seemed a whole lot less crowded than the rest of Southern California. Though we never saw the herd of buffalo that is reputed to live on the island, we did find lots of open spaces in the hills above Avalon.

Here are the pictures we took. As always, you could click on the slideshow to see larger versions with captions.

Food for Your Conscience

Last night, Tracy and I went to dinner at a local restaurant called The Linkery, a restaurant that serves only local food and makes it abundantly clear that they think that local food is better. Actually, just about everything they do is better. During our two-hour wait for a table (reservations not accepted), I read their primer for first-time visitors, which reads like an entry out of one of my favorite blogs. In fact, I'm strongly considering submitting the primer to the blog to share with the rest of their impressive fan base. This was my favorite part: "We charge an 18% fee for table service (i.e., dining-in). We don’t accept tips. We find this appropriate for professionals in any industry including hospitality." They would also like you to know that money left on the table will be donated to charity, and they are extremely generous in their support of charities around the country. I forget what the charity of the week was, but it was certainly on the menu.

Oh, and the food was pretty good but not great. Not worth a two-hour wait, but certainly worthy of a weeknight visit with fewer people.

Those Crazy Birds

Last year, right around this time of year while living in our former house, I came across a most unusual phenomenon: birds chirping in the night. It's the kind of thing you never really notice until they start doing it, and I'm beginning to think that it's the most notable difference about this city from other places I've lived.

This year, they are back in full force. Is it a spring thing? Is it only because the windows are now open every night? Did it happen last summer and I just didn't notice it? Either way, it's annoying as *hell*. I've never been a big bird-lover (even that Big Bird), but this is too much. I've had trouble sleeping for the past week or so, and much of that is attributed to the bird who apparently served as a the model for my alarm clock (which Tracy has referred to as "the evil bird" for some time now). Don't birds sleep at night like the rest of us?

I need a dog

This weekend, Tracy and I were out of a bar and a guy had his dog there -- a very cute dog of a breed that looked very familiar to me but I couldn't place it. Turns out it was a Vizsla. Anyone who knows me knows that I love dogs, and I've been saying for a while that we could get a dog as soon as we get back from our honeymoon and stop traveling so darned much. Vizslas seem to be everything I'm looking for in a dog (aside from an easy spelling!): active, intelligent, short-haired, big-but-not-too-big, friendly, and downright adorable. I even went so far as to find a Vizsla breeder near us, and coincidentally, they are expecting their next litter in late summer of this year. What are the chances? If either of my readers has any first-hand experience with this breed, I'd love to hear a story or two...

In the O.C.

This past weekend, I went out to Orange County to spend some time with my brother. For my birthday, he had gotten me tickets to see an exhibition game between the Red Sox and Dodgers at the L.A. Coliseum. I didn't know it at the time, but this turned out to be a pretty big event -- the largest crowd ever assembled to watch a baseball game (115,300 was the announced attendance). Needless to say, the Coliseum is huge, and our seats were in the very top row in the far depths of center field. The game was interesting at a number of levels, aside from the sheer number of people:

- It was only 201 feet down the left field line, with a 60-foot screen above the wall. This caused the Dodgers to use five infielders and two outfielders for the entire game.
- I've never felt so much in the minority as a Red Sox fan. I'd say that probably 90-95% of the fans there were Dodgers fans, wearing their Dodger Blue. Most were also Hispanic, which is an entirely different way to feel like a minority at a baseball game. It reminded me more of a big soccer crowd at Rio than what I'm used to at ballparks here in this country.
- They operated a free shuttle lot from Dodger Stadium, about 6 miles away, but by the time we got there an hour before game time, there were so many people already waiting for a ride that the expected wait time was two hours. This led to a wild ride across town, where eventually, we got a ride to the game from one of my generous friends.
- The Red Sox won 7-4, and even though most fans had left by the 9th inning, it was still plenty loud as the Dodgers mounted a late comeback. I came away very impressed.

Aside from the game, we tried (in vain) to find outfits for me and the groomsmen for the wedding. Men's Wearhouse doesn't rent suits, apparently, and I cannot bear the thought of wearing a tuxedo at my wedding so we're going to have to find a Plan B.

The weekend ended with me returning the favor to my brother, and taking him to an Anaheim Ducks game with Tracy and her friend. I hadn't been to an NHL game in a few years, but although it was a sellout, the crowd was much more tame than the night before. The Ducks won in a shootout in overtime, and everyone went home happy. What a weekend!