George's San Diego, Part 1

As they say in Real Estate, when buying a house, it is location, location and location. And so it was for me in the year of 1911. I needed a change, and the three years of living in San Diego afforded me a new one.
   The Quality Inn housed me for one month in May of 2011 in the city of Carlsbad  I had a plush mattress, a walk in shower and a frig to keep food fresh  I rented the room for about one month and with the room came a breakfast in the lobby. I had a choice of three different cereals, bacon, eggs and bagels. I particularly enjoyed the freshly squeezed orange juice and bananas and apples.
   The train station was bout one mile away and towards the beach. My $42 dollar monthly senior pass gave me the rights to see San Diego every day, via their Coaster Train. A fog would lift as soon as the train entered the new Santa Fe Station built in 1924. The station is in a plaza area with Mexican tiles and fountain in the middle. And wow what a beautiful view of the Harbor and skyline of Miss San Diego.
   I must of walked a thousand miles in San Diego and for an old man like me, I needed a toilet now and then with now often a priority. A block east of the station is the old Army and Navy building now called the Y.M.C.A. It was there that I met Mr. Cartwright inside the lobby of said four story hotel. I had left the food court at the Superior Court building and needed to bathroom since this food court does not own one.
   I discovered it was a friendly hotel and allowed the homeless off the street to take care of business, if you know what I mean. The two stalled bathroom just next to a baggage holding area smelled like a passenger ship with the toilets stopped up. On leaving my stall, a smell overtook me. There was a hand, a shiny black one and an aroma that could have been used in the best brothel in the land. That was when I met Mr. Cartwright. Now I must admit that I looked rather rough around the edges -- in fact even the edges were worn. With a slim budget, a barber did not fit my budge then. His marble eyes looked me over once or twice. In fact I thought they had left their socket
   "You lookin for a place to stay..."
   "Well I a..."
    "Just you fill out this application...and turn it in. We have three rooms on the 2nd floor and look forward to having you stay here."
    It was his heavy cologne..so heavy it smelled like perfume. His eye balls almost left their sockets while his hands shook mine. Just couldn't help but notice that his nails were polished and clipped so evenly.
    I did not know then but this 1924 brick buildings location was across from two Broadway banks and next to a Starbucks on the corner. A bustling Seven Eleven was on C street on the corner. I crossed India Street and Kettner on my way to the Santa Fe Train Station.

Three trains share the track of this station. Amtrak and the Union Pacific roll on tracks two and three. My monthly senior pass was worth every dollar as the train lurched forward and made it way to Old Town San Diego. The local commuter train made about five stops and I descended in Encinitas where I had parked my car.
    Each train station has a parking lot for those commuters who wish to park and ride. There is no charge to park. I left for the Quality Inn, across from the Motel Six. From a dish inside the lobby I grabbed an apple and paid the $200 or there-about that I owed. I fixed a slow leak in my right back tire from a auto shop went to bed.
    I received a call from the Y that my application had been accepted. Mr. Medina told me that my room was ready for me. My clothes packed into my compact Chevy, I was off to San Diego the next morning. I found a place to park on India Street and walked across Broadway to the Y. I felt exhausted and hungry.
    Mr. Cartwright was in the lobby. The housing authority needed my last pay check to make sure that to know what to charge me for a HUD room. I panicked since I did not have my last pay stub or so I thought. It dawned on me that I may have just left my last retirement check pay stub in my brief case under the passenger seat.
    Mad as hell, I returned to my car on a cul-de-sac" street called India Street. The stub was there and when I returned Cartwright wished to make sure of my annual income. I needed to make a call for the state to fax a sheet to verify 
 my income.
    Mr. Cartwright told me to return an hour later and number 204 would be mine. It was about eight fifty a month for the room and a security deposit of $400. I was left with only two hundred for the month for gas, and food.
     I needed to eat something or I would drop dead. A year earlier, my then girl friend took me to Anthony's grotto off the Harbor. After the chips and chow main, my body came alive again. A few sea gulls flew down and whispered in my ear.
    "Hey Mr. Chips, throw me a few my way."
     I fell in love with the seagulls and what is a wharf without seagulls and fish. Sail boats, the coast guard and other craft raced in the water To my right was the airport and across from me was Shelter Island.

  Mr. Medina gave me key card. It opened the door for me. Every-so-often I heard a door slam. There was no cushion to slow the blow. When night time came, I heard what sounded like an elephant in the next room. The noises last through the night