Hooray for the world
After another brief stint in Santa Monica we made our way from West to East side (homie) passing Maria Sharapova at Los Angeles airport. We spent the final four nights of our travels in the Big Apple. We spent much of the time reflecting on the events of the previous 8 months; the things we’d seen and the people we’d met.
Tell you what, let’s have some photographs.
We arrived early on a Monday evening and walked to the AYH hostel in the Gaslamp quarter. We were struck by just how busy all the bars and eateries were with trendy young things.
Apart from whale’s vaginas, I didn’t know what to expect from San Diego. Ultimately it was a more than pleasant surprise. Balboa Park is home to the zoo and all that guff.
It’s close to some beaches which is swell.
We took an organised tour from the hostel down to Tijuana as the Mexican border is only a few miles to the south. The old boy who took us was a thoroughly nice chap, Roy his name was. One of those guys you could really aspire to be like in those latter years. After a walking tour he left us and a German chap to enjoy a couple of Coronas. At a little over 50p a bottle it was too good an opportunity for us gringos to miss.
No more bothered inventing words. DIARY.
Day 245 Thursday 10th May 2007
I felt an undercurrent that suggested the guys wanted to go out. When I noticed Lewis had dug his ‘going out shoes’ out the bag I knew we were in business.
So we go out. Considered Hooters but opted for the place across the way. It seemed quiet. Funny how the past few nights we’d been kept awake by the raucous happenings and now this. The hottest thing there was our waitress whom we reluctantly tipped.
We decided to try our luck elsewhere but that place was dire so we returned. The door guy viewed my passport with such disdain I thought I wouldn’t get in. Knob. It was busier now but still a sausage festival. A hot drunk girl nearly got near us but was restrained by her friend. There was a girl looking lonely on our former table. [Rosey engages said girl in conversation.]
I was hungry and suggested Lewis and I leave Rosey and his new friend whilst we got some food. We got a few yards down the road before I suggested another drink. We enter a bar, buy a drink and quickly get talking to an American girl and her friends. I think one was Mexican and the other I can’t remember. She was blonde. They were all pretty hot. At some stage I became pretty drunk. It’s weird. I was in that same hazy plane I achieved in Flagstaff. We went back to the American girls place, or her brothers. Wow. It was amazing. A single ground floor expanse of space with kitchen, stairs, lounge, etc. Wow. I sat next to the blonde one and. Full stop.
Yes. It was truly amazing. But I forgot to write down the most glaring detail. The car was parked right in the middle of the room:
I wanted to tell them about my treehouse.
GOOD LORD THAT BLONDE ONE WOULD MAKE A SPIFFY WIFE.
We finished San Diego with a little baseball. The San Diego Padres vs the St Louis Cardinals.
The world has a go at us for cricket but baseball isn’t exactly a laugh a minute.
San Diego gets a ‘top of the bergen’ award.
After our jaunt to God’s mighty gash a little lubrication was in order. The guys wanted to watch The Fight. Michael the tour guy had suggested some place, ‘Granny’ something, but it looked to be a bit of a trek on the map so we just walked into Flagstaff. We went to Maloneys (every town in the entire world has an Irish pub regardless of whether they know where or even what Ireland is). The doorman says that the fight isn’t on inside but it would’ve finished by that time anyway. We go inside, get a round in and sit in a booth. It’s not too busy but hey, we’re just there for a quiet one right…?
Maloneys gradually starts to fill and we realise it’s Cinco de Mayo whatever that entails. Large bottles of Corona apparently. A large girl sits next to me and touches me. She threatens to see us later as she slides out the booth. Worried by this prospect I tell the guys I’m going go to talk to some different girls. Rosey and Lewis roll their eyes in unison.
The long and short; we ingratiated ourselves to a group and found ourselves in the late bar next door (a familiar tale). Here some girls took to the bar.
It was a noteworthy night for other reasons. “I got a number!” It was only a matter of time. I mean we play up the accent and claim to take tea with the Queen, who could resist?
Only one teensy problem. If you phone that number you would not hear the sultry tones of an American temptress. The one person who decided to give me their number was a bloke. Nuts.
The evening carried on as the haze descended and post kebab 5 or 6 of us bundled into a car and headed to someone’s house to continue the festivities. We walked in and I was pleasantly surprised to find a well stocked table of beverage. The guys had their hands full but I grabbed a bottle and made myself comfortable. Just then a bleary eyed girl in a dressing gown appears at the foot of the stairs. “Listen guys,” she said “I don’t want to spoil the party but we’ve got our finals this week and it’s church in the morning.” I took a slug from the bottle and put it back on the table.
Moments later we were bundled back into the car. The girl ferried us back to the hostel and we finally called our quiet drink to a belated close.
On seis de Mayo we felt a tad tired, but as a Sunday we stuck to tradition and went for a round of frisbee golf. Not before stopping at this dream wettingly disc laiden shop display:
Tiger in the Woods.
In conclusion, Flagstaff got the RCL seal of maximum approval. Take that Lonely Planet.
Tags Cinco de Mayo Flagstaff
