Walk down the Malecón to do breakfast at Langostino’s – the restaurant where I met the Canadian boys the other day. While I’m eating, Doug and Luis walk by and ask if they can join me. Of course! There’s always room for two more with my party of one – especially since I’m posted up at a four-top. We chat and sip coffee for nearly an hour and become FB friends before heading off. I find out they’re 55 and 60 and one of the most fun couples I’ve met. God bless Canada.
Swing back to my hotel and contemplate doing the pool for a bit but decide I should pack the majority of my stuff first. May as well get ahead of the game since I leave for the airport in T-minus 26 hours. How depressing. Ugh. I don’t want to leave tomorrow. Continue reading
As we rolled into San Diego on a sunny Sunday afternoon, depression started to set in. In less than 24 hours I was supposed to be boarding my flight back to Chicago and trading 80-degree temps for 50’s and rain. Determined not to let the inevitable (me leaving) get us down, we headed for Balboa Park to stretch our legs and let Baker make some friends at the dog park before checking into our amazing last-minute AirBNB booking at the Granada House (make sure to check out their blog too!!) in San Diego’s North Park neighborhood. As our stomachs began to growl (yes, gays really do eat sometimes), we set off for the beach to grab dinner and catch the end of the sunset.
I mean seriously…how can you not fall in love with this view?
And just like that, my love affair with San Diego began. Continue reading
Why yes, I have been missing in action. Thank you for noticing and caring. The holidays are a stressful time, what, with all the shopping and traveling and drinking to survive the whole thing, so no, I have not had time to document my ridiculousness-filled adventures…until now.
(insert evil laugh here)
So I recently made the trek back to Pennsylvania to visit my family for some pre-holiday festivities. Two weeks early, but at least I avoided all the annoying once-a-year holiday travelers. Well…almost all of them.
There’s always that one annoying traveler that you wish had conveniently gotten stuck in traffic or overslept or just had one more cocktail so they’d pass out in a booze-induced coma on the flight so you don’t have to listen to them. Perhaps it’s karma, but I always seem to get stuck in the seat next to them, behind them, or just in their general vicinity where I’m too close to block them out with an veritable dance party in my ear buds…even at max volume…but oh wait, I’d accidentally packed them in my checked luggage. Screwed. Continue reading
I swear my mother missed her calling as a personal travel agent. For as much shit as I give her, she deserves a gold medal for putting up with me and making my travel arrangements on a whim…especially considering the fact that I call her at all hours of day and night – including right now since it’s currently closing in on midnight on the East Coast where she lives and I’m in the process of having her book my flight home for the holidays.
She’s phenomenal. Especially when she talks herself through every step of the process. She’s quite the ham to listen to on the phone.
“Okay. United confirmation! You are confirmed! Traveler Mr. ___________. Cool! And because I’m using rewards travel, okay, your first bag is free! Well no, wait, you know why it’s free? It’s because I’m using my United rewards card!”
And yes, this is all her talking to herself through the booking process. Now I know where I get the whole talking-to-myself thing from. Continue reading