In my last blog I spoke about Huntington Beach, and raved about the fresh ocean breezes. Perhaps the beaches in Ocean City are not as tame. Today was the day the surfers did not go into the water. Twelve foot sets struck the beach with such force, the Seagulls skirted the tops to claim their prize.
In no way did I wish to venture to be beach, but the Scripps Mercy Hospital made up my mind. I have been going there for about one year ever since I tasted their wonderful spinach-laden breakfast. It is one hell of a way to taste the day with a hard boiled-egg, spinach, a lean piece of bacon and heavy coffee. Yet this morning I was refused entrance.
A pushy security guard stayed watch. "Sir, who are you going to see.?" I would like to see my lovely spinach today. "Sorry, we have a flu epidemic and unless you have a patient here, you must not go forth." Can I see your administrator?"
Some lady called Lourdes came towards me. She seemed polite but did not bring an administrator to speak with me. After all, could I give the spinach the flu? Even the downtown new library allows anyone with the flu or other deadly diseases to use the computers today.
Since many of the homeless who sleep beside the library harvest diseases on Park Blvd, it is a marvel that I am still alive today - what with sneezing, and bringing in other communicable diseases. Since it is a Green Library, tissues are strictly forbidden. Now how in Gods-name can one sneeze without a tissue. Do we need to go to the homeless washroom to blow and wash our hands. Where do these sonsofbitches go to relieve themselves-to their own washrooms.
Now every library in has tissues besides the keyboard is diseased in the library, it is only a matter-of-time when I end up in the obits.
It was then I took a contrary action. Instead of grumbling, like I used to do, I picked up a few goodies from Albertsons and then drove to the Old Town and parked my car. I wished to see those twelve foot waves in Ocean Beach and order some cards from BK printing.
The 35 bus left every thirty minutes. several skateboarders came aboard, a few nervous homeless, and a couple of retreads carrying guitar cases. Several Latinos came aboard no doubt to clean hotels or work as servers. We ended up on Cable Street and the last stop was Newton Avenue.
The fog had not lifted and the fresh ocean air made my battery jump a bit. Seldom do I need starters when at ocean beach. I waved good-by to the #35 bus driver and looked for a toilet. For one going on 76, I need to be closes to toilet spots on my journey. Every store had a sign that read, Toilets only for Patrons.
I saw Mallory's Antiques on the corner and my favorite Chinese restaurant. There were a number of tattoo shops and eateries along the way. The YMCA had a new entrance and finally I arrived at the BK Printing shop. Solomon told me to return for my business cards at about one o'clock. I then walked to free washroom, next to the lifeguard station.
The washroom looked as if it had been in sore need of a rehab. A few feet from the entrance the stench grabbed-a-hold on me. The concrete floors were a sea of vermin, papers, and a few dead fish who had dropped in to avoid the twelve foot waves outside.
A monument outside next to the surfer commemorated the sailors who lost their lives drowning during some tyrannical ocean seas. It made the front pages of the local papers. The downed sailors should have known better than to swim in this unpredictable ocean.
I walked up some stairs to the longest Pier in California. There were no sailors or surfers in the water today. Even the seagulls avoided these white walls of water, only to dip and skim the surf in search of little mackerel.
Now to save time, I will leave the beach scene and return to the ninth floor of San Diego's new library. After my senior nap, I needed to do more work on my football story, about 'Amby' Schindler, the Greatest Trojan of all time.
Would you believe that on their special Ancestry.Com Computers, I verified that Schindler's Mom had an earlier marriage. a volunteer helped me to navigate these research engines.
" Well, lets look first at the United States Census. Lets take your Mom's birthday and check to see if she indeed, lived in Iowa." To my amazement, we found here name listed and living inside a saloon. We found the name of her siblings and that her Mom had indeed been born in England.
"Now lets see who lived inside the saloon." Wait. Hold it there. Noftsinger was the name of her first husband. Guess they all lived inside the saloon..."
But the night was young and outside would be Jitterbug lessons. I can assure your that when daylight savings time arrives, the ninth floor's roof will be the scene of the greatest dancing affair San Diego has to offer. At seven I got sleepy and took the #11 bus to Broadway.
I must have been the ocean. I bought a can of sardines and paid the price with heart burn all night. (Not edited yet.)
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