San Diego - Pacific Beach

Pacific Beach ruined a perfectly good Saturday for me and it was mostly due to the quintissential PB hangout - Moondoggies.

It started with a quick stroll over to the Chinese festival downtown, where I ate chicKarl wings (I didn't know this was Chinese food) and chatted with friends. The afternoon soon lead us to Katie's balcony, where we enjoyed several glasses of wine and came to the conclusion that we would continue the festivities at a Korean restaurant in Claremont. We ate at the Arirang House and everything was perfect until we decided to head to Moondoggies.

Moondoggies is the archetypical Pacific Beach venue. In other words, if you are looking for a conversation about politics, philosophy, music, society, culture, or anything beyond surfing, drinking, who is hot, and how you're going to get high later on, then you should probably go elsewhere. Moondoggies is populated by meatheads who are wearing sandals and somewhat whorish-looking girls who all have tattoos in the center of their lower back. Those damn tattoos are so prevalent that it almost seems like a rite of passage for moving into Pacific Beach. No one ever told these girls that sexy and slutty are not the same word, then again, they are probably so zooted from a combination of beach sun and weed that even if someone told them they wouldn't understand.

It's not that I've got a problem with the nightlife in Pacific Beach, it's just that I think it is positively worthless. We arrived at about 8:30 (hey, we got an early start to the day) and it wasn't until the bouncer asked me for my ID that I remembered I had taKarl it out of my wallet earlier that same day.

"Uh. . .I don't have my ID with me, can I just go in and not drink?"

"No," he said while shaking his empty head vigorously. "You can't."
Smiling in amusement at how little I actually cared that the bouncer was denying me, I said, "Okay fine." Then, turning to my friends who had already ordered drinks, I said, "This guy won't let me in so I'm just going to hang out while you guys finish your drinks."

Walking outside, I scanned up and down the street, secretly thankful that I had left my ID at home, when all of a sudden I heard, "That guy just farted!"

I looked at a group of two couples who had just passed me and realized that they were all giggling because one fellow: a short bald guy with glasses, had just cracked a joke in my direction with the apparent punch line being: "That guy just farted."

Partially annoyed that someone in PB was messing with me and partially annoyed that someone would make a joke with such a lame punch line, I yelled, "Hey! What did you say?"

The bald fellow turned immediately and ran in my direction and got in my face, shouting, "What did you say?" For a moment I thought that he was going to try and kiss me, so I shoved him back and said, "Who the (expletive) do you think you are! You don't know me!"

He responded with, "I'm just making a joke to my girl. You don't have to get so pissed off!"

"How would you like it if I said some random (expletive) about you for no reason!"

It was at this point when the bouncer came out and said, "Why don't you go this way and you go that a way!"

To which I responded, "We're just talking!"

Apparently, my comment was ignored by everyone involved as the group scattered like dust and I was left wondering what had just happened.