Remember That One Time When We Tried To Bike To Tijuana?

Half a banana, a small handful of almonds and a rapidly gulped down cup of hot coffee on the sunny deck off our hotel room. The day started off like any other, that is, until we met Gino. He self-admittedly had consumed too much vino. Mind you, it was before noon. "Make sure you go through the Hyatt to get to Seaport Village. You can trust me, I've been coming here for over fifty years." Yeah, ok Gino too much vino. Going straight through the Hyatt isn't even an option, but thanks. 

We missed the ferry to Coronado by ten minutes, thanks to getting a bit too friendly with vats of every kind of balsamic vinegar under the sun (espresso and Mexican chocolate were a couple favorites).

Upon landing at Coronado Island, with palm trees and sandy beaches in sight, I found myself taking the greatest and smoothest joyride of my life. The retro lines of my lime green beach cruiser fit my personality like a polka-dot dress and bright orange lipstick. It's always a good sign when I can't stop humming the Father of The Bride soundtrack, as I really was living the simple life. Tasting the fresh cheeses, meats, smoked almonds, and apples of locals while admiring unpretentious bouquets of sunflowers and ranunculi, I felt truly happy and content. Wide residential streets were lined with an eclectic mix of Cape Cod, mission, and craftsman bungalow style homes made uniform by their lush and blooming yards, complete with abundantly fruitful lemon trees. 

Somehow along the way, we got a bit off course. Leaving the ocean further and further behind, we found ourselves moving smoothly along deeper into barren brown lands. Perhaps the fact that we were riding along something that resembled a freeway should have tipped us off, but it didn't. If it hadn't been for Bekah's chain falling off in a rambunctious dive off the curb, it is highly likely that three friends would be in Tijuana right now. Realizing the error of our border-bound way, we turned around after a round of belly-aching laughs, only to be greeted by the wind working against us. Thanks for nothing Steve Jobs. Your maps proved not only potentially dangerous, but made for a completely unnecessary trek. Adventure! Exploration! Better yet, a great story and years of memories ahead of us. Remember that one time when we tried to bike to Tijuana?

Rest assured, we made it back to civilization, and one of great affluence at that. First things first: Moo Time. The above photo serves to document the remains of a solid layer of Heath lovingly snuggled between one heaping scoop of double double dark chocolate and another of toasted coconut (complete with gigantic shavings of toasted coconut). Pure joy immediately ensued, followed by a leisurely stroll through palm tree lined streets of oceanside mansions. Fine sand below my feet and between my toes, I looked upon over a century of elite leisure. Visions of white fur, diamonds and crimped hair of old Hollywood stars within the private villas and smoky restaurants of the historic Hotel del Coronado filled my daydreaming mind. 

Eventually the tired eyes and windblown hair of three dear friends greeted a hazy sunset to end an adventuresome and enjoyable day that brought us closer on a whole new level.