Let’s change things up a little bit. The weather is heating up and summer is almost here. San Diego is the perfect town for a perfect summer. When you live like we do, San Diego is nothing but a playground. Between Downtown San Diego and Encinitas, this city is our oyster.
Even though I’m breaking the Whistler tale up with something else, it is all in good fun. Enjoy.
Friday. The weekend was finally upon us. I, like the genius I am, was somehow able to lock myself out of my apartment and out of my car. Now what? There was nothing else to do but hit the gym. Thank god I was in workout clothes. While waiting for my roommate to return and save the day, I got in a decent sweat session. This was going to be very necessary for the weekend ahead that was going to be filled with lush indulgences.
Saved. My roommate appeared, bright-eyed and ready to go, my keys in hand. We like to start off our weekends right. A bottle of chardonnay and a hot tub are the perfect pair for a perfect start. Feeling relaxed and enjoying the effects of the chardonnay, we headed back upstairs to prepare for the night and await the arrival of one of the most fantastic people I know, Mr. Casey Deane. Casey was a hot shot on the Hollywood scene and full of positive vibes. He was the male personality equivalent to me, or so I’ve heard. Casey and I were friends, and occasional lovers. He was full of life, and between the two of us, we were a double barrel of good times and laughter.
Once arrived and settled in, it was time to head out. We were the ideal menage a trois, and we all loved to over indulge. El Vitral was one of our favorite spots to start off any great evening. The food is delectable, and the margaritas are deceiving. Two margaritas, a shot of Grand Centenario, and the night was approaching full speed.
Basic. Boom. It was more mellow than usual, but we stopped in for drinks on the house. My roommate and I were regulars. Bootlegger. Boom. It was packed. Casey, although an LA guy, happened to know half the people in the place, or rather, they knew him. A girl from across the bar waddled her way over to where Casey and I were standing. She smiled. He asked, “Do I know you?” I laughed. It was a series of both confused and amused facial expressions. Apparently she knew him from high school. Casey remained unsure, but humored her with an, “oh yea! Heyyyyy!” Sometimes the best thing to do is just go with the flow. That’s how I do it.
After a refreshing Corona and yet, another tequila shot, we headed off into the night. Each time we stepped out of a place our steps became faster and our laughs became louder. It was on. We were competing with time. How many places could we get to before 2am? It was go time.
After walking a few blocks into the middle of it all, 5th and Market, we spotted a new place called BarleyMash. This place recently took over the old Whiskey Girl, and needless to say, my roommate and I were happy about it. The one time we had stepped foot into that establishment, we choked on the fog that engulfed the dance floor and almost got trampled by ineligible men. BarleyMash is a lot different. The new and improved venue is open and fresh, the walls adorned with series of TVs. Pool tables and a big long bar filled the place. It was a sport bar enthusiasts dream. . Naturally, a drink was in order. Because of the tequila, we opted for a beer. We scoped the place out together, each snickering comments at one another. It was decent people watching, but after that beer, something changed in all of us….uh oh.
It was time to get “Fluxxed up” as many “people” say, and that was exactly what we did. We strutted up to the place. The ground shook beneath us, the music was so loud. Casey, a natural born scenester, knew the doorman before we could even step up to the plate. Pretty fantastic, if you ask me. There are not a lot of guys out there that have the charisma to take over a single town in one night. I happen to know a few, and Casey, was one of the best.
Flo Rida? Seriously? Yes, yes it was. We walked into a full blown concert. Bitches were booty shaking all over the place. Just another casual Friday night in San Diego. We all looked at each other…we were all thinking the same thing, “We crush life.”
Once we had had enough of the bootyshakin bitches and crystal clad douchebags, we knew there was one more spot we had to introduce to Casey. Granted, as loaded up on tequila as we were, we could have probably skipped it and been just fine. But, no, we like to live competitively. I do believe Daft Punk had a thing or two to say about “celebrating one more time.”
Prohibition is an awesome San Diego speak-easy. It’s an underground bar that sits behind a door labeled, “Offices of Stanley Moore.” (Or is it? ;)) Little do most know, that behind those doors are some of the most talented mixologists in Southern California. We rang the doorbell. All of us stood (perhaps slightly wobbly), anxious to be let in. A beautiful tattooed hostess opened, and ushered us inside. It was 1:15am, but the night wasn’t over. Now its time to name your poison. The two moustached men behind the bar concocted tantalizing cocktails that you wish you could drink forever. You’ve really never tasted anything so good. Who needs dessert when a cocktail will do just fine? I’m pretty sure at one point, Casey turned to the bartender, complemented his moustache and persisted to exclaim that this was the best cocktail he had ever tasted. It was far more dramatic than it needed to be, but, hey, lets be honest, when life hands you the best cocktail you’ve ever tasted, coupled with fantastic company, enthusiasm is the only manner in which one should react.
We closed the place down.
As we trekked the mere two blocks to our infamous apartment, it could not have been more clear to everyone we passed that we were loving life more and more with each step we took. As usual, smiles never left any of our faces for a minute. Well, except for the sneers and snickering, and the fact I only got the crust of the pizza, but all in good fun. 🙂
Back up at our place, the bustling of people slowed and the music died down. The three of us however, had a plethora of topics to continue discussing while we watched the lights of the city dim down and the drunkies attempt to make their way back home.
It was just the beginning, but it had been a pretty damn good one for a casual Friday night in good ol’ San Diego.