Miles: 352
Weather: sunny and warm
Lowest Gas Price: 4.07 (Just inside California state line)
Today nothing could wake me up, not the alarm, not my nagging boyfriend, not the thought of San Diego. All I wanted to do was stay in the big comfy bed at Bills. Kicking my feel and whining the entire time I get dressed and pack my suitcase. The room is turned upside down with three days worth of clothes, shoes, garbage, ten cent cash out tickets and empty pop cans. I manage to get everything picked up and find somewhat of a good mood as I imagine the view of the Pacific Ocean. By 9am we check out of the casino and head to the far end of the strip for some pics with the Welcome to Las Vegas sign. We hit little traffic as we head out of town and jump on the highway Southbound. A stop at the state line for a check-in with the agricultural department, just in case we were trying to smuggle in illegal plants. You know, because I'm gangsta like that. We stop just over the border for Jerry's first experience at Jack in the Box. The burger was so big and filling, I couldn't even finish it. We jump back on the highway after seeing a few more greasers and hot rods heading for Vegas.
We roll into the Dolphin Motel parking lot around 5pm West Coast time. Our room is small, but clean and exactly what we paid for. The guy at the desk gives us a few dining options in the area. We head right down the street for dinner after getting all of our junk cluttered in the room. We both order seafood platters from Point Loma Seafood, direct from the ocean bordering the restaurant. As the weather is perfect to eat outside I grab a picnic table and play face-off with a ginormous seagull that wants some fries. I'm not kidding you folks, these seagulls are not like their cousins in Indiana. This little guy or gal is bigger than my chihuahua, he probably tips the scales at ten or more pounds. After scarfing down some delicious crab cakes, shrimp and fish we hit the neighborhood laundry mat. While our clothes are finishing up the rinse cycle, a slicked back greaser comes in. I swear they are everywhere out here, and it's TORTURE! Why wasn't I born in southern Cali with the rest of the cool kids? Anyways, Jerry asks him where some cool hangouts are around town. He points us to the Tower Bar, a dive/rockabilly bar on the other side of town. We chit chat a bit and he tells us he's heading to Vegas in the morning with his '64 truck, bastard.
Now it's time to get all dolled up and hit up the Tower Bar. In the parking lot is a beauty of an old truck, complete in rusted glory. Inside I order two Pabst Blue Ribbons and am completely flabbergasted when the bartender hands me two 24 ounce cans of PBR. Seriously, I have never been so happy in my life to meet a bar. We sit in the corner of this dingy, dark bar while the regulars are lined up at the bar. It must be movies on since they have bowls of popcorn on the bar and are playing a B-Rated movie on the TVs. I can't make out what movie it is, but it's about a tacky 90's girl and a farm. All I know is that her boobs are shown at least every two minutes...the guys sure seem to enjoy the flick. After finishing our brews we try to find The Shakedown, another bar greaser boy told me about. But we end up getting lost, frustrated and irritated at San Diego. So we head to the hotel, watch some TV for a while and fall asleep around 11pm. Another day down the drain.
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