Vacation, all I ever wanted…

Fair warning: This is one of those “and then I…and then I…and then I…” posts, probably the most boring of all the posts, but it could be worse. I could be making you watch a slideshow of my vacation pictures. I’ll try to just hit the most awkward highlights.

And before I begin, I just want to mention that I’m sitting in a coffee shop and a woman just came in with a giant parrot on her shoulder. A fucking parrot. On her shoulder. In a coffee shop. Anyway.

So, Thursday: I got to the airport, had a lovely drink in order to be buzzed for takeoff. Unfortunately I overestimated my tolerance and found myself drunk at 3 in the afternoon, but what does it matter since I almost didn’t cry at all during the plane ride? From now on drunk-flying is the only way I travel by air. I landed in San Diego just in time for rush hour, so I spent my first hour in California people watching at the airport. Not as awful as it sounds, as I saw a man doing drugs in his car. When Andy got there (totally angry at being stuck in traffic, but that’s his default emotion anyway: hatred), we went to his apartment for a bit, then went out for Chinese and to a hookah bar before I completely crashed.

Friday: There was a time Andy almost killed me for dinging his car door, but now he either trusts me or hates his car because he let me drive it around San Diego by myself. He went to work, I went to the zoo (I win). Lots of animals there. I got introduced to an entire busload of people because I was a single rider and the driver “didn’t want me to feel awkward sitting next to people I didn’t know.” Perfect.

After the zoo, I took myself to the Gaslamp district and went shopping. An Asian woman insulted my feet and guilted me into a pair of shoes, but the rest of the day was pretty much just shopping with a side of sunny skies. That actually is perfect.

Next there was some general bumming-around-the-apartment and visiting one of the apartment hot tubs before we went downtown to an Irish pub with some a genuine drunk and belligerent Irishman. I bonded with the other girl at the table, noting that the odds must be good for her working with a bunch of engineers. She responded, “the odds are good, but the goods are odd.” Instant friendship formed. We followed up that Irish pub with another Irish pub about a block away, where some random guys took a picture with me and said, “Tell me your name and I’ll tag you.” New favorite pick-up line?

Saturday was beach day: we spent seven hours there. I was technically wearing a tube top and jean shorts for a while, and I really suck at sunscreen. I put it on continually, but missed weird places such as the back of my left knee, the slit in my swimsuit skirt (that burn looks like a treasure map), and my entire back. We completed the Saturday of awesomeness with some grilling and a dive bar.

Sunday, which was only yesterday, was spent at Coronado Island. My family told me I should eat brunch at the hotel, but they failed to mention it costs $75 a pop. My family has a skewed vision of what I enjoy (answer: being cheap). We visited the hotel, the beach, and a much cheaper restaurant down the street before filling me up with ice cream and cocktails for the flight back. I did all of this with a side ponytail, so now I have a half-neck burn to add to my awkward collection.

Now I’m back. I took today off to do laundry, unpack, recover, but I actually just slept until 1 o’clock and came to the coffee shop that is apparently frequented by pirate women. Back to reality (oops, there goes gravity) tomorrow, but until then I’m on vacation. Bliss.

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