I am sitting at the Mission Bay RV Park staring through two sets of chain link fence to my “water view.” On the other side of the bay sit RVs enjoying a water view in a less prison-like environment. I'm wondering what I did wrong.
I am also thinking about a memory that has been coming back to me for 35 years now. It comes back at odd moments, and different parts of the evening come back to me at different times. It's funny that I'm parked now a few miles from where most of the evening took place. Maybe this time I will come to understand why it weighs on my mind. It's a delightful memory, but not one so delightful that it should garner so much attention. It is a puzzle.
My short trip here from Laguna Beach was long on drama. As usual the night before a towing day, I made a plan for the morning pack-up. I was in Crystal Cove State Beach outside of Laguna and check-out time wasn't until 1. So I decided that I would get up and do my normal four mile walk in town, eat breakfast at Zinc, and follow it all up with a trip to the dog park. I would return back to Beagle, give her a nice good clean out and vacuum Wurzig. Finally, I would take a shower before hitting the road.
But life had other plans: After falling asleep that evening with this great plan laid out, Opus woke me at two by vomiting all over my comforter. Lovely.
Remember though, I am working on being more tolerant and adaptable. So no big deal, I would use the laundromat as the center of my town walk, returning to move the loads around when appropriate.
Despite the addition of a laundromat, the morning went rather smoothly. I enjoyed my last breakfast at Zinc (where a man enjoyed Opus’ nose pressed into his calf--or so he said), and the dogs enjoyed a good run at the dog park. It was when we got back to camp that things completely fell apart. It was about 11, the sun was beaming down and those nasty little flies were back out. It seems I was going to depart in much the same manner as I arrived.
But I persevered. I washed out Beagle then hooked up the vacuum and set to work on Wurzig. A few minutes in, River started barking madly at passing dogs. She was jumping around, kicking up dirt everywhere. Dirt that blew into Wurzig’s open doors. Opus, not one to be ignored, was crying to get into Beagle because the flies were driving him nuts.
I calmed River and decided to let Opus into Beagle. I had just moved my freshly laundered comforter back inside. I unhooked Opus and he jumped right in and to his usual spot on top of the comforter.
I went back outside to untangle River. That's when I noticed that her tie-out had wrapped around the ball of the trailer hitch which was covered in grease. This grease was now all over her line, so I wiped it down as I untangled her. I went inside to wash my hands, and I noticed that there were black spots on my comforter. I looked at Opus and realized that he had some new black spots of his own. During the tangle, grease had apparently gotten everywhere. And now it was all over my nice clean comforter. At that point, nature kicked in and a giant wind gust blew a funnel of dirt inside Beagle.
I said out loud, to no one in particular, and in a very intolerant tone, “This is a disaster!”
It was too hot to leave the dogs in the car or the trailer so I had to give up on taking a shower before departing. At that point, I just packed everything up as fast as I could--I couldn't wait to get off of that fly-filled dirt pitch.
I drove up to the dump station, cleaned out the tanks, and hit the road a sweaty dirty mess. Yep, just like when I arrived.
Thankfully, I only had to drive about an hour and a half down to San Diego. About mid-way, I thought back on my morning and said again, this time laughing, "That was a disaster!"
I was looking forward to my water view at the Mission Bay RV Park. Imagine my dismay when I backed into my spot, saw the chain link fence, and then proceeded to be “entertained” by my neighbor with his outdoor television. Outdoor. Television.
Tolerance and adaptability began to fly out the window; an hour later I was one click away from checking in to the San Diego Westin. But when it comes right down to it, hoteling with two dogs is not that pleasant. So I decided to stay where I was and change my perception. I will see through the chain-link fence, right to my friends and family with whom I have so little time.
Since writing that I have completely enjoyed my time in San Diego: Seeing family and friends; driving on the freeways (not nearly as much traffic as Seattle and, when it is clear, everyone drives as fast as possible); visiting familiar neighborhoods and my favorite city park, Balboa (the photo above is of the park building where I worked as a stenographer for the San Diego Parks & Recreation Department—best place to go to work ever!); relishing the knowledge of how to get from one spot to another without the aid of Google. It almost feels like home.
Almost.
You see, in Southern California, you cannot ever get away from the sound of other people. It is what drove me out of here years ago; even when walking in the woods or through a park, you can always hear other voices—and I know they are outside of my head as they are rarely speaking English.
It is what will keep me moving forward but not until I enjoy this water view for one more day.
As for that memory? Still no idea why it visits me. I am thankful it is a pleasant one.
-K
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