Ocean Beach, the Surf is Up

Now Most of you are familiar with Mission, Pacific, or La Jolla Beach. But what about O.B? 

 My day began at Perry's cafe next to Old Town. My stomach felt happy for the first time in two weeks. My retirement check finally arrived late, but just in the nick of time. Our Governor Brown now places my retirement check in a a bin for bulk mail. He does not care a cent for teachers. Just ask those with furlough days.
   I left the downtown area of San Diego and took the Green Trolley to Old Town. I drove my car a block to  Perry's Cafe, on the corner of Rosecrans and Pacific Drive. I felt like eating a horse. I turned right into their banquet room.
    "I would life the pork chops with scrambled eggs and muffins." I held a Starbucks coffee in my right hand. It felt good to have money in my side pocket.
    "I will be right back, honey." I felt proud to have not reacted. All waitresses call me "honey" and I detest it. The word is reserved to only ladies who adore me, or when I need to dress up my pancakes.

    Five minutes later the breakfast arrived. I poured ketchup and salt over my eggs and sliced one of the two paper-thin pork Chops. My stomach turned over causing suds to enter my mouth.
   "Is there anything else you want, honey?" Yes stop calling me honey you b..." 
    After my ten dollar meal, I returned my car to the Old Town commuter parking lot, and waited for the number 35 bus to arrive. It is the OB bus or Ocean Beach. The bus soon arrived and the driver left for a ten minute pit stop. Some drivers have their cars parked in the parking lots.
    He returned to a long line of people. I read a map of San Diego while the bus did a circle dance through Midway, then Point Loma Blvd which led to Cable Street. I debused on the corner of Newton and Cable.
The print shop at the end of the pier was closed. It was only eight thirty and Solomon would open it at ten.
   The mile long pier beckoned. Some tattooed hoodies were asleep next to the pier.  There was but one fisherman on the pier, probably because it was too hot and sunny. Fish apparently life it cold and foggy. The long walk built up another appetite.
   A bevy of twenty or so surfers took advantage of the endless long and large sets. I grew tired watching their arms catch a wave for the day. One large wave after another rolled in. It was a surfers paradise today. I felt happy to have worn my wide floppy hat since the sun would have made mince meat out of my sun bleached skin. 
  A stack of buttermilk pancakes arrived. I drowned them in honey without saying a word. A limping pelican looked up at me. Below swimming in the ocean were six baby mallards and their adoring mother's watchful eyes.
 Up ahead on the shore my eyes focused on on the breakers slamming on big rocks in front of two large walls that separated the water from the weather beaten apartments. I paid my fare and walked to the pier's beginning. I sat for a few minutes and watched the breakers splash so high the water came up to my legs.
  I went to the print shop and accepted the proof. I had two hours now to burn. Now I have been to La Jolla, Mission, and other beaches, but fell in love with Ocean Beach. I walked up Cable Street and heard what I thought to be a ram's horn.
  It sounded like a Rabbi blowing the New Year's in. A chap was instead blowing a the big horn of an antelope and on key. A heavy set man had blown into an Elk's horn. He sounded just like a Cantor during the Jewish High Holidays. I made him blow it several times until he stopped and placed his hand over my head. He proceeded to make a prayer for me. It took all of five minutes.
  "It took me three blows to learn how to get that sound. It was a pleasure to meet you. I said good by to him and his too little Chinese wife. I needed to return to the printing company to grab my business cards.