A Good Day in San Diego
This post is a part of a short story series. Click here to read from the beginning.
We originally wanted to enjoy breakfast on the back patio of the Airbnb, but there was another guest whose loud and intrusive presence made us uncomfortable. So, we left.
After breakfast, we revisited our original plan to visit the San Diego Zoo. Between ticket prices and feeling worn out, we decided to spend the day lounging on a nearby beach. The warm sun, crashing waves, and gentle breeze rocked us to sleep.
These types of days were a respite to my weary and wounded soul. They gave me a sense of hope that maybe my life at home wasn’t so bad, and everything would just work out without any effort on my part. But that is not how life works, as I would soon be reminded.
Hunger interrupted our lackadaisical afternoon, so we decided to try our luck at the bbq place again. This time there wasn’t a wait, and we got right in. After going through the line, cafeteria style, we settled into our seats at the wooden tables, sand still clinging to our skin.
As I bit into my brisket, I knew this bbq wasn’t local. I asked a manager where the owner was from and as it turns out, he was indeed a southern boy. There was something comforting about finding the familiar in an unfamiliar place. This time it was the kind of familiar I’d always known.
After a relaxing day at the beach and an enjoyable dinner, we loaded back up in the car for the two to three hour drive to our hotel in Anaheim.
Yet again, tension built as we drove up and down the road the main road looking for our hotel. After passing it a time or two, we finally found it, checked in, and found our room.
It was late, so we drifted off to sleep tired, frustrated, and in need of some Disney magic. I hoped the happiest place on earth would be the answer.