San Diego - La Jolla

Tonight, Karl and I met Rena, a friend of ours who we haven't seen in a while, her cousin, and Michelle at a sushi bar/club named Cafe Japengo. Cafe Japengo was the type of bar where people in their mid-thirties go to be hip. Karl and I drove up in his Ford Aspire rental and took advantage of the valet parking amidst a torrent of mercedes, lexus, bmw's, etc. We walked in and I was amused to hear Snoop Dogg's " Ain't No Fun (If The Homies Can't Have None)" and even more amused to watch people in their mid-thirties wearing v-neck t-shirts bob their head in rhythm to the lyrics. The place was crowded as all hell and I had the distinct feeling that I was drowning and trying to keep my head above water as I was pushed to and fro by a flurry of overweight bachelors seeking their prey. Getting a drink was such as hassle that I felt compelled to down it in one sip after finally getting it, just to relieve the growing sharpness in my head that had resulted from trying to get the bartender's attention for literally fifteen minutes.

Despite the hassle of being in a "trendy" bar, it was great to see Rena and Michelle and to meet Rena's cousin. Rena was also fed up with the crowd, so she decided to reserve a table. The hostess handed us a beeper that went off after about thirty minutes, signaling a free table. When we arrived at the front in order to be seated, we were met by a hostess who asked,

"Wait, how many of you are there again?"

We then proceeded to mull around the front area for about twenty minutes as the hostess proceeded to ignore us. Finally, we got fed up and headed into downtown La Jolla in search of a better venue. As we were driving out, it was amusing to see all the testosterone depleted aging bachelors peel out of the valet parking space in their beamers. God, help me and never let me become that bachelor. Have the compassion to give me the decency to be married by 35, and the luxury to sit at home with a movie and a beer.

Anyway, the Piece de Resistance was yet to come. It arrived when we were forced to wait in line to get into another "trendy" bar, while we watched some cellulite heroine walk straight past the line and into the club, leading a group of five men. The moron bouncer looked at us and said, "Don't worry, everyone is going to get in tonight." He quickly added, "How many of you are there again?"

I had heard this once before and I wasn't very surprised when after a few minutes had passed, a stream of chicKarl heads walked straight through. This was the last straw (thankfully), and we headed home.
I saw a glimpse of a different life in La Jolla. It is like a watered down version of "Sex in the City," which, while being an entertaining show, has probably got to invoke one of the most worthless images of life I've ever seen.

I don't know what it is that compels people to parade their social status around with such a lack of modesty. You have a lexus? Who cares? You have breast implants? Who cares? You have a mansion in La Jolla? WHO CARES?

You know what? It's boring to me.

I was walking in the door, ready to go to sleep when these words came to me: "God loves the little people." I'm not some religious freak, but there's meaning in this. There is more beauty in a bum wearing a burlap sack, reading a yellow book than in all the vacuous entities combined in all "trendy" establishments.

Am I annoyed? God damn right! My final words of the night? DON'T GO TO CAFE JAPENGO AND DON'T GO OUT IN LA JOLLA. Save your money and spend some time with some good friends at some dive bar.