Another busy day beckoned as I woke just before 7am. For the first time this trip we had some cloud cover, which was very welcome, although we could tell the sun was already trying to break through.
Today was the day of Karen and Neil’s whale-watching trip. I had opted out, being a wimp at the thought of a small boat bobbing about on the ocean. Also, rather like a safari, it holds no real attraction for me. The thought of being out for hours in the hope of seeing an animal that is probably miles away seems rather pointless. Probably wrongly, I’d much rather be guaranteed to see them on television or somewhere like SeaWorld.
Anyhow, after initially driving into the wrong car park, we arrived at the marina 15 minutes before the 9.30am check-in. The boat was due to leave at 10am. Everyone was already aboard, including Karen and Neil, when the rest of one family group rolled up at 10.02am without a care in the world.
Eventually As I stood and waved as the boat set off, but received no response back. As it pulled away, another two girls wandered up and said to me, “Oh no… is that the boat leaving?” Which part of “check in by 9.30am” had they failed to understand?
I didn’t really have a plan for the three hours they were going to be away, although I had brought my laptop just in case. Instead, I decided to head to the nearest Old Navy, only a mile away, where I purchased a rather dapper, and heavily reduced, linen jacket—which, it later transpired, did not meet with Karen’s approval.
As there was a golf shop on one side of Old Navy and a Target on the other, I enjoyed a slow meander around both. It was rather pleasant. To top it all off, I drove the extra half-mile to Dollar Tree, where a few entirely necessary purchases were made.
I then headed back to the marina to await the return of the intrepid sailors.
I was not greeted with smiles. In fact, Neil was actually quite angry. There had been no whale sightings whatsoever on what is apparently the world’s Whale Highway. A couple of pods of dolphins were the grand total of their wildlife encounters, along with a 50% discount voucher for a future trip by way of compensation which was of little use to us.
We drove back to the house, where we chilled for a couple of hours and had lunch.
At 3.45pm we headed back into downtown San Diego, where I had pre-booked a parking space for the baseball. Our walk to the stadium took us through the Gaslamp District, which wasn’t quite as pretty or as ornate as I remembered.
Although the baseball wasn’t due to start until 6.40pm, the gates were opening at 4.30pm so fans could watch the USA v Belgium match in the fan zone they had created in Gallagher Square inside the ballpark.
There were already crowds gathered on the artificial grass slopes that formed a giant bowl around a huge screen. What I needed was either a wall to sit on or lean against because of my back. Karen, meanwhile, was being very particular about not sitting in the sun, even though it was obvious it would soon disappear behind one of the tall buildings.
I found us a suitable spot, but Karen said she’d rather sit on a wall around the edge of the bowl. I walked over to secure one, only to discover that Karen and Neil hadn’t followed me and were nowhere to be seen amongst the thousands of people.
I sat down thinking they would either join me within a minute or two or one of them would come and fetch me.
Neither happened.
Instead, I spent most of the first half scanning the crowd trying to find them and barely watched the match.
I assumed they could see me and knew where I was because I was exactly where I’d been told to go. I daren’t move. I desperately wanted a drink and, as the half wore on, even more desperately needed the toilet. I also knew that if I gave up the spot, I’d never get it back.
I was becoming increasingly annoyed and was on the verge of sending a message saying I was going back to wait in the car. Just before half-time my bladder finally won, and I had no option but to visit the restroom.
When I returned I found Neil looking for me.
I was still more than a tad annoyed and told him so. To his credit, he kept quiet and accepted it. He went to fetch Karen from wherever they had been sitting and I must confess I explained to her just how annoyed I was as well.
She genuinely didn’t understand the issue. She said she had been able to see me the whole time and couldn’t understand why it mattered that I had no idea where they were. I was even less impressed when I discovered they had somehow managed to get themselves drinks whilst enjoying the first half.
Anyhow, the USA crowd were almost as poor as their team. They obviously don’t understand football at all, cheering and groaning at entirely the wrong moments. They did become wonderfully tribal when their heavily deflected goal went in, describing it as a brilliant piece of skill before launching into a chorus of “USA! USA!”
We took our seats high up in the gods in the stadium for the first pitch but could still hear the fan zone to the side, whilst keeping track of the actual football score on the BBC website.
The Padres were poor from the very start. A couple of fielding errors soon left them trailing 0–4, and from then on they never looked like mounting a comeback. Eventually they slumped to a 0–8 defeat.
Karen and I both had chicken from Jack in the Box. It was expensive for what it was, which is probably the kindest thing I can say about it.
The crowd around us were perfectly friendly but, as usual, seemed to take very little interest in the game taking place below. For them it’s simply a pleasant evening out with friends, chatting in the lovely weather whilst eating and drinking.
I did feel disappointed for Neil, who had really wanted both the Padres to win and the game itself to be exciting. I have a degree of sympathy for the Padres because they’re a bit like Norwich City—they’re always there or thereabouts but have never managed to win a major title.
They do have a rather nice brown kit though.
Neil wasn’t especially impressed when I, along with more than half the crowd, wanted to leave during the bottom of the eighth inning. In truth, I simply needed the toilet and wanted to relocate for the end of the game, but Karen and Neil decided that if we were moving anyway, we might as well just leave completely.
It was a decent walk back to the car park, although parts of it took us through rather less salubrious areas of town. For a couple of blocks there were people snorting, sniffing, dealing and inhaling all manner of substances. The smell of marijuana hung heavily in the air, but we made it safely back to the car.
We then had more confusion getting out of the car park using the QR code we’d been given. Neil didn’t hear me tell him to walk through the barrier once he’d managed to scan the code, and briefly thought I was driving off without him.
Anyhow, today was rather less successful in a number of different ways. Me getting annoyed has already been forgotten, but I do feel sorry for Neil after the lack of whales and the disappointing performance by the Padres.
You always get one of these days on a trip.
No doubt we’ll soon look back on it through rose-tinted glasses.
Besides, tomorrow brings a bright new adventure in Anaheim.
