Forever Paisley

Our last stop in Vegas, Roxy’s Diner.  As we made our way out of the café fully fueled on eggs and taters I turned to Angie, “that Bloody Mary wants me to play blackjack, let’s get out of here.”  Without losing any more money at the tables, we were off.  The next stop, San Diego to spend some time amongst Yoopers.

After 328 miles we finally arrived in Ocean Beach.  With Oktoberfest just down the street, parking proved to be a challenge.  Thirty minutes later the Bonneville had found a home and we were on our way to Hodad’s.  We skipped the line and were escorted upstairs where we received VIP treatment.  Mason jars full of beer.  Custom made veggie burgers. Baskets of fries. Delicious. From band practice to the local watering hole, the night continued to sweep us.  My mind was happy while my liver … oh, my poor liver.

When we woke up yesterday I had every intention of surfing.  With one kombucha and a raw breakfast down, my hangover wasn’t giving up.  Plus, I forgot my swimsuit in Denver.  In the end, the inadequate coverage offered by my makeshift beach attire (read: underwear) was the deciding factor.  I opted for a sandy nap instead. No complaints.

Come 3PM, with five Marquette natives by my side, the next step was clear.  Hit the bar.  For the next four hours we sat, we drank, we ate, we reminisced.  As I finished my second vodka soda I decided it was time for a field trip – to the tattoo parlor.  Dave joined me for the ride.  One hour later my wallet was $80 lighter and my left rib cage was inscribed. Check.

A quick stop at Sunshine to collect the stragglers from the bar and it was back to Dave’s.  There were talks of sushi, dive bars and karaoke, but I decided that I had accomplished enough for one day.  After being shoved through Dave’s bedroom window, I stumbled to the living room, performed a graceful couch dive and assumed position. The ten hours of sleep were appreciated.

Day 10,223.  Off to LA.

Cherrettie