I find myself driving down to San Diego. The sunny Southern California sky looks a whole lot warmer than it is. My 2018 Chevy Malibu’s dashboard tells me it’s only 58 degrees as I drive down the I-5. I like the car, not my favorite color (white) but it’s comfortable. Full climate control, Bluetooth, on-star, it had everything you need, and some things you don’t. The only downside to the car was the large front pillars that hold the windshield in place. I’m sure they are sturdy, but their thickness leads to some blindspots my usual rides don’t have. The most important feature is the gas mileage. I had already driven over 100 miles and my “expected range” has only gone down about 20 miles. If I was paying for gas I’d be happy.
As night falls I pull into the hotel, the Hilton Garden Inn on Murphy Canyon Road. It’s one of those hotels that are basically in a strip mall. Adjacent to the hotel parking lot is a Jack in the Box, a small Italian Eatery, a washed up dry cleaners with a freshly starched “out of business” sign, a soccer gym and a Sizzler. I had to be with a customer in the morning so after hitting the Hotel’s Happy Hour with an associate, we decide to go get dinner.
Now, I’m preferential to nicer restaurants, unique places with plenty of local flavor. It was late, I was tired, and we had to get cracking so when the discussion of where to eat shifted to Sizzler my knee jerk reaction was “Fuck no.” But before my knee’s influence could reach my old fashioned addled brain, I got to reminiscing.
Sizzler was my recently passed grandmother’s favorite place to go. And I recall my childhood being spent at a salad bar trying to find anything edible to douse with dressing. I was feeling nostalgic, so I agreed. It’s changed over the years, way more options that I remember but Steak, Shrimp, Salad, Tacos, Nachos, Bread, Soup, and Ice Cream, we ate like kings and I went to bed feeling like garbage.
I woke up not feeling much better. Deciding to skip breakfast, I swore I’d never eat like that again. Work was uneventful, and soon it was lunchtime, a woman at the site suggested Bud’s Lousiana Cafe. I’m a sucker for cajun food so I couldn’t wait to try it out. We got there, and I could smell New Orleans in there. The woman at the front desk had her hair up in a wrap, and asked if we had a reservation. We were able to get a seat without one, and I was running the options in my head: Po boys, Shrimp and Grits, Etouffee, Beignets. They had it all. I was starting to get the Sizzler shakes all over again so I made my choice Jambalya Pasta. “Laissez les bon temps rouler.”
Night 2 was an unfortunate replay of night one. Too much happy hour led to bad decision making and I was blindly staring at Sizzler’s salad bar pondering the mistakes we make in life. I suspected I wasn’t going to want breakfast the next day, which is a shame, it is the most important meal, after all.
Lunch the next day was dictated by the same lady who suggested Bud’s so I assumed it would be pretty good. We wound up at Lit’l Pepper Gourmet- voted best Sandwich in San Diego, and I could see why. Huge sandwiches, great bread choices, unique compositions and fresh ingredients- even saw them picking up the daily order. My steak sandwich was the size of my head, dripping with dressings and almost perfect. It could have used some texture (maybe crispy onion strings or something.) I got a side of spicy soup that was not all that spicy, guess I should just judge them on their sandwiches- which again are pretty good- should’ve been toasted, but that’s just me.
A fun little aside about Lit’l Pepper, they serve you a cookie as a side with you meal. A nice touch, I got a chocolate chip with the sandwich and my table-mate got a snickerdoodle with his. These weren’t choices, nor was I aware they were included, but I wonder this: what decides what cookie you get? Is there a sommelier for cookies? Did someone painstakingly imagine trying to balance the delicate brininess of the corned beef with the sweet woody flavor of the cinnamon dusting the snickerdoodle. How do I get that job?
As the work was wrapping up they asked me if I’d be willing to stop by a small satellite office they have in Oceanside on my way home. I figured “why not?” so I took the address, punched it into the trusty GPS and made decent time to my destination. It was a rather nondescript building, unlike the big offices I was working at, this was a small ranch style house almost. I knocked on the big metal screen door, no answer, I buzzed the door bell, no answer. As I was about to leave and call the customer the inside door swung open and a nice, but obviously flustered man began interrogating me.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
I tried to explain myself, and I didn’t do a very good job, but eventually he let me in and I gave him the name of whom I was looking for. I was lead through the house, there was furniture and games, it looked like an old folks home, just no old folks. The people there, wearing lanyards with name badges kept asking me strange questions, repeating themselves and I was beginning to think I had the wrong address. The man who opened the door hurriedly rushed me through the house to a small back room, where I met my contact and went about my business. I was there for about an hour and a half, stepping out into the common area a couple times to take phone calls, all the while the employees eyed me nervously, walked by me aggressively, and gave an overall unfriendly demeanor.
When it came time to go, my contact walked me out, opened the gates and though I expressed that my car was on the other side, thrust me out into the night and slammed the metal grate behind me. Strangest office I’d ever been to. I get back in the Malibu to head home and think about the trip. The hotel was decent, kind creepy with the noisy bumpy elevators that didn’t have working lights on the buttons, the Happy Hour pricing that wasn’t nearly as cheap as one would assume, but the bed and room were nice. I’d stay there again in a pinch. The long hallways in the hotel reminded me of a hospital or something… hospital…
“OH SHIT!” I exclaimed, almost slamming on the breaks. That office I had just left not 20 mins ago was a hospital. I pulled over and googled it and saw that it was a halfway house of sorts, a community living for behavioral problems and mental illness. Suddenly it all came back to me, like the end of Shutter Island. That’s why I wasn’t supposed to be there, that’s why their questions didn’t make sense. The lanyards weren’t badges for names, they identified patients/residents and that’s why this little house was on full lockdown at every exit. So much for situational awareness. I laughed a bit, turned on a podcast and readied my ever gas efficient Mailbu towards Hollywood, if we’re going crazy- let’s go all the way.
Hotel: https://www.hilton.com/en/hotels/sanstgi-hilton-garden-inn-san-diego-mission-valley-stadium/
Car: https://www.autoblog.com/buy/2018-Chevrolet-Malibu-LT__4dr_Sedan/
Restaurants:
Sizzler- https://www.sizzler.com/locations/sizzler-murphy-canyon-rd-ste-s#locations
Bud’s- https://www.budscafe.com/
Lit’l Pepper- https://litlpepper.com/
Company Card Confidential 