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young overlords on Dog Beach
Saturday, November 21 1998
Since it was now evident that Kim's keys weren't going to turn up, she called her mother and convinced her to send a spare key via Federal Express. Meanwhile, we'd be needing a car to go visit my maternal aunt on Sunday up in Orange County (as previously arranged). And then there was the issue of how Kim would get to work this afternoon. We decided it would be best to rent a car for the next two days until the backup keys arrived. Kim had mentioned on several occasions the possibility of maybe trading in the sensible white Volvo for a sporty little convertible. So we decided to rent one.
We decided to pick one up at a Budget Rent-a-Car place on the edge of nearby Old Town. I knew that there was a very convenient bus to Old Town, and we could get on it at a stop directly behind on our apartment, but since I'd neither of us had ever ridden a San Diego bus, we were both unsure about what to do. But it's really very easy; after all it's designed to be understandable to the lowest common denominator of our society. Most of the others on the bus were elderly women, who seem to be able to ride for free.
At the Rent-a-Car place, we picked out a zippy little blue Mercury Capri. Filling out the forms, we decided to get comprehensive insurance just in case the world remains as turbulent as it's been for us this week. Then we walked around the car checking it out for dents and noting them down. Finally Kim and I had the skinny dark mechanic show us how to put the top down. Then we drove off into the complex topology of streets connecting Point Loma with Ocean Beach.
Ah, the joys of a responsive little car on the streets of a Southern California City. What the Hell are we doing with a Volvo? We're not with child.
In the afternoon, we smoked a little pot and headed down to Dog Beach with Sophie to partake of the rays and (for Sophie) the fascinating fragrance of other dogs' assholes. Kim and I set our towel down on a pocket of sand atop the stone jetty marking the southern limit of Dog Beach. We thought we'd get some reading done, but the people around us proved much too interesting. There were a couple little kids nearby attempting as best they could to "train" a pair of big dogs. One of them was a boy of about eight wearing big pants and a completely unjustified wallet chain. The dogs were playing along with the humiliation of their "training," though they were sure to exert their pride and individuality in subtle ways, being slow and seemingly whimsical to obey (for example). One of the dogs came up to me during my observations. He was friendly as can be, so I reached out to pet him. One of the kids shouted out to me at this point, "Don't! he'll bite." It didn't seem possible, but I wasn't in much of a risk-taking mood today so I withdrew. The kid's father was a physically-fit blue collar guy with a mustache and tattoos, exactly as I would have expected.
Down below us was a young woman with her three dogs and a flawless little blond boy (of that magical age following mastery of control of bodily functions yet preceding those heartbreaking adolescent years of rebellion). Sophie took a vague interest in the smallest of the young woman's dogs, who reciprocated with what seemed like fascination. The young woman informed us at this point that our dog resembled a dog named Yo-yo that her dogs knew. Later on, the young woman's son addressed Sophie with the name "Yo-yo." It was cuter than I can possibly describe it, though I think it unnecessarily inflamed Kim's maternal instincts.
Then there was an elegant border collie staring intently at his master, who was stretched out on a towel attempting to sunbathe. The border collie had dropped a flexible cloth frisbee on the sand beside his master and would think of nothing else in the universe. His power of will was such that the master had little choice but to occasionally rise up and toss the thing. Sometimes when the dog would run to the crashing surf to retrieve the frisbee, he'd recruit a strange child to throw the frisbee for him, since his master wasn't doing it nearly frequently enough.
Earlier today I'd suggested to Kim that she call the Acupuncture place down on the corner of Sunset Cliffs and Cape May to ask if they'd found her lost keys. I thought that if they were lost at all, the likelihood of the keys falling from her pocket on that corner were highest of all, and that the employees of such a place probably get up early and are deeply concerned about the state of their karma. So when Kim and I returned from the beach to our place this afternoon, we found a message on our answering machine. It was from another girl named Kim, the massage therapist of the Acupuncture place, saying that yes indeed she had Kim's keys and that we could come pick them up at her place. Overjoyed, we headed out to her humble backyard abode near Point Loma.
Kim saw this chain of events as tactical plays in a supernatural plan to get her involved with the people at the Acupuncture place, which is only a block from where we live. Kim figures at the minimum she owes the Kim the Massage Therapist some business and a very large tip.
Kim went off to work at the Victoria Rose and I stayed home. I suddenly had a fairly large block of free time all to myself, and I had no idea what to do with it. I did a little writing and then took Sophie for a walk down to Newport Street, where I got a chicken burrito at Nico's. Nico's is a taco place featuring a delightful rooster painted on the front window. Like Roberto's in Normal Heights, it has videogames and genuine Mexican employees. A hispanic bum came in while I was there and (evidently having scored a bottle of tequila or a six pack of Corona) bummed several pieces of lime from the cashier, who counted them out, "Uno Dos Tres..." (I want to say "Quatro Cinco-Cinco Seis!" like in the Offspring Song "Pretty Fly for a White Guy.")
I think I've lost my ability to entertain myself, because with all this time I had this evening, I found myself bored. I worked a little on a well-overdue painting for a customer in Ann Arbor and then drank some vodkatea and took a bath. I was incapacitated after that. I think I need better reading materials.
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