A Surf City Sunday.

"What is the bathroom's combination?"
 I am an early riser. My churches lie in San Diego so I drove downtown and parked a few blocks from the sand. An early bird, I needed to park where it was free with no meters. Inside were papers I needed to examine so I hung out at Coffee Bean's, a block from the pier.
 Inside the air conditioned shop worked to perfection. The bathroom's combination was easy to remember. 456-789. At about nine I walked to the breakers and heard a horn. There was some body surfing going on with men my age who refused to give into Mother Time. The horn signaled for the surfers to come in and allow for the next batch to go out. In the forties, surf boards were not the rage, but catching and riding a long wave was in.
 The remainder of the day I spent at Whole Foods, off of Beach Blvd and saw a regrettable and forgettable movie. Like most, there was too much sex and not enough plot. I guess that is where the younger generation is going. The phones in my apartment did not make any noise. I never felt so alone and so helpless. At Whole Foods, I bought some ripe figs for $4.95 a pound and also made a salad for eight and change a pound. My daughters telephone call interrupted my funkiness. Later, Walter called me from San Diego. No longer alone, I allowed my face to smile Yet I needed a fix, no not my teeth, but something to eat.
At about six thirty, I decided, what the hell, and ride to the Golden Arch -- no not McDonald's but the In-N-Out burger joint. It sits on Talbert and Beach in front of Walmart's. Well, that was the kick in the pants I sorely needed. No, you don't need a surf board, buggy board or even skates to get your kick in the pants burger.
   The first time I studied it was from my window at the Motel Six in Westminster. The large truck awakened me at eight every morning. Can you imagine that each morning, the buns, meat, condiments and all the trimmings are emptied from the truck to the small building. Yet there was a line out the door. It seemed that Surf City residents had the same idea.
   Over half were Vietnamese. Everyone had a smile on their faces. Most were young, lean with loads of energy. I had pigged out at Whole Foods and treated myself to a forgettable movie at the Bella Terra Shopping Center. But what harm can a double burger have? I have been sticking to my diet of fish and vegetables.
  My number was called and I picked up the burger. The wait was long, but worth every bite. A man sat next to me on the counter. Two gentleman entered with one wearing Angel baseball cap. I had watched part of the game at Whole Foods. They have two large screens on two walls next to the bar.
   "How did the Angeles do?"
   "Murphy hit a seeing eye through the middle. The Angeles pulled one out."
    The excited man with a heavy British accent hit me too hard on the back. He, like me, was missing a tooth.
    "Close man. From New Zealand. Can't you see?" He pointed to his colorful shirt. His breath was heavy with alcohol. He would and could not stop talking.
    Finally they sat and I continued the love affair with the double burger. And like those out the door, It was nothing less than a love affair. Big Mac, Bob's Big Boy all took a back seat to the one with the freshest and tastiest meat.
   No longer in a funk, I retreated back to my apartment building and continued reading a book about the editor of the Washington Post.