A couple of fellow alumni of Roosevelt elementary school showed up in San Diego this weekend, giving me a rare opportunity to get drunk with people I’ve known over 20 years. They brought along a handful of Northwesterners looking to escape the gloom and get really, really drunk.


The weekend didn’t start out too eventful, I picked up the first arrival at the airport and showed him a few SD happy hour’s before the rest of the crew arrived. Once they did we hit up some pizza spot were the waitress was harassed for not serving us beer just because their liquor license wouldn’t allow it. She was a good sport. I showed them to the first bar before heading home, as I had to work in the morning.


After an argument over fifth grade teachers names, and their brothers names (Mr. Storms name really was North American, his brother’s was Bob) we left the Catamaran Resort where my friends may not be welcome. We ended up at Moondoggies happy hour, which lasts until 10, and made me realize I’m under-utilzing happy hours. Cheap food, cheap drinks. After asking me were we should go next, I was ignored because two random girls walking down the street mentioned they were going to Bub’s, were we stayed until another random girl talked someone into going to Johnny V’s and everyone followed. Bub’s is okay (I’d like the place if they didn’t charge a cover, it isn’t the kind of bar one should pay to drink at), Johnny V’s is not. At some point some grab ass got started that landed someone in an ambulance, but besides being really pissed off he was okay.

One of the rooms that I was not in Friday night also apparently had security standing outside, knocking every few minutes to tell them to quite down.


After one of the grayest days I can remember in SD (sorry disappointed visitors) we headed to the Gaslamp. The crew had been to Stingaree on a previous trip and for some reason wanted to go back. We got bottle service, which was a first for us here at WFS. When I think bottle service I think a nice little table with a robe to separate the important people from the ‘normals’ while that was going on, we must have put down for the cheap ass bottle service, as we got a bench that was way to small for the group and were surrounded by all the regular schmucks who hadn’t payed $350 for a $30 bottle of booze. The service was bad to boot, two girls trying to cover 4 or 5 ‘VIP’ groups. On top of that, the scene at the club was unfortunately what I would have expected. Way too many dudes with orange tans spending their gym paychecks to try and impress the few attractive girls in the club.

The high point in the night was when we had a bouncer fake kick out one of our own. Shortly after he  was shown the VIP exit anyway, strait to a cab. I guess there’s at least one advantage to bottle service.