The answer is Marine Land, but San Diego is kind of like Niagara Falls on steroids.
And actually on steroids, because this is where Ken Caminiti used to play. Plus it's California... there's a few juice monkeys in the water.
Nevertheless, this is nothing less than a beautiful city. While the waitress at the Del Coronado - the nicest hotel I have ever stayed in - called Coronado (a small, resort-like island just off San Diego's coast line) a "sleepy little town", it no doubt provided us with endless waves and a plethora of not-so-cheap Mexican food.
At one point, while we were playing the game we invented called "Calamity" in the water and ruining the vacation of several fifty-somethings, we even saw dolphins in the water, followed by diving sea gulls who tried to take the little scooners' fish.
Each of the three nights was spent at the same bar - which is surprising but we definitely got the feel for a vibrant downtown. We even discovered that the rickshaw girls here were prostitutes (through the internet) and got harassed by three policemen, one of which I had seen the night before at the same bar apologizing to the bouncer because he was "so drunk last night I couldn't even function".
Those are both actually true. Cops are quite the professionals in the United States. Just like on The Wire.
I think we averaged one cougar/night at that famed bar, as well, which was called Whiskey Girl.
We proceeded to spend each day at happy hour at The Del - a hotel so famous it has housed every president since the Proclamation and Marilyn Monroe (both of those at the same time and in the same room, probably) - and drinking "milk" until and after the Sun went down.
The third day was particularly special because it was our 14th and final baseball game - a triumphant home victory for the San Diego Padres over the Washington Nationals and first baseman Adam Dunn, the biggest man I've ever seen.
However, at 40 degress and sunny, it was next to impossible to sit in my seat for more than one inning at a time. It was even impossible to sit down for that time. At least they served a $5 combo of a hot dog, popcorn, a Coke, a cookie (which nobody ate), and peanuts.
San Diego was the completion of California for us. It was the end of the baseball road trip, for all intents and purposes, and looking back it's a little sad - even though I write this two weeks past the date.
And even though we were going to Las Vegas, where poo smells like pink roses and fortunes are won at the flip of coin (you don't hear about the losses, because those aren't cool), I definitely left a little something in California.
And I don't just mean a piece of my liver.
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