The first leg of our journey to Monterey ended around Pismo Beach – we needed to stop for some local breakfast. It was about 9am and Paul broke out the bottle of Blue Moon and poured us a round to toast the trip. We parked just outside a seedy bar that was closed, well, so we thought. Just then the door opened and out poured a tattered old man that looked like he hadn’t seen the inside of a shower since our bottle of wine was squeezed from grapes. Of course Paul couldn’t help but strike up conversation – turns out our new urine soaked friend owned a 914 in is better days. We walked away hoping the irony of the chance meeting wasn’t a sign of days to come.
Paul "Groosh" Grusche
Blue Moon, Purple Moon, it’s all the same when you are drinking wine at 9AM. But I would like to take this opportunity to give a nod to Trader Joe’s for carrying some of the best cheap booze around. Seriously.
What struck me as even more weird than dirty pants leaving, was the seemingly “normal” 55 year old woman who drove up in a Vette. She walked by, smiled pleasantly, then entered the “closed” yet unlocked bar to proceed (in my imagination) to getting tanked.