A lonely day filled with overcast skies and chilly wind was rather depressing this morning. I have been in the mood to write something heartfelt but have lacked cerebral creativity as of late. Since I felt the need to escape my abode to avoid the proverbial wall climbing, I headed to one of my favorite locals. Here I find amusement in people watching and never have a lack of inspiration. If you have ever been to OB, you know exactly the type of eclectic melting pot that it is.I parked at the far end of Newport Avenue, the main thoroughfare, and strolled up towards the string of antique shops, bars, and smoking retailers. I entered a bar with a door that may have once passed for English oak. This place is an oldie but goodie for locals but it shall remain nameless to protect the innocent. This is the type of atmosphere you get when you mix tourists, seasoned drinkers, hustlers, tree-huggers, potheads, balmy weather and a constant ocean breeze.
The bar was a long, dim room, five crude ripped leather booths to the right, a wooden bar refinished in glossy acrylic to the left, and the typical mirrored wall showcasing bottles of grain. Eight serious drinkers were present. Mostly gray hair or balding, and upholstered by an extra 15 pounds of belly, propped against the vinyl bar railing. All were either watching the basketball playoffs on mute or facing the bartender, OB’s incarnation of Freud, who looked as though she sampled the wares at intermittent intervals. The Cure played on the jukebox, reminding me that boys don’t cry.
I plopped my rear end into a seat at the bar and ordered my usual, vodka/soda with two limes, please, because today lucidity would be a real bitch and I was in need of some attitudinal healing. The soused man next to me smiled and extended a howdy-do. There was not enough wintergreen in the world to disguise the cigarette on his breath despite his claim to be on the wagon. Ye old failure to rehabilitate. In the stool next to him sat a skinny guy with 3 day stubble, scared rabbit eyes, broken blood vessels exploring his bulbous nose, and the burnished skin of the hard drinking homeless. His sidekick had a face that had once been pretty but had been paved over by bad decisions and a lot of drug abuse.
I finished my glass, put my shades back on, left a tip on the bar and headed back out into the sunlight and the rhythm of the city.The sun was shining through the clouds and I felt as though I had entered a whole new day. Cheers to Ocean Beach.
