Well, that San Diego magazine gave a glowing report of the happy
hour at the Westin Carlsbad, where it was said that on Wednesday
(check) there were draft cocktails from a rotating list at a
progressive price - starting at $4 at 4 pm, adding a buck an hour,
with orders after 9 charged at $9. We'd stayed at that hotel a
couple times and liked it well enough, and it was just a few miles
up the road, and they hadn't sounded the all clear, so why not.
Two reasons why not:

#1 - no free parking. Luckily I had my handicap placard, so that
was okay.

#2 - no more draft cocktails at whatever price.

Ah, well, I'd been eager to report on those and cement my standing
with the cocktail crowd, but there was still $2 off beer and house
wine, so I had a Mission blonde (your standard blonde ale, a little
floral but not too bad, maybe a few units bitterer than usual)
followed by an amber, which was unmalty but not too awful. Lilli
just had a house red, which tasted like and was probably Kirkland
Cabernet, but at $6 a glass for a decent pour, who's complaining?
There was a table of exceedingly loud Realtors[tm] from various
Southern states apparently attending a convention (we heard tales
from Arkansas, Texas, Tennessee, and other states, I wasn't
listening all that closely), so we moved to the end of the bar,
where the wall actually accentuated their voices and gave a hard
tone to their drawls, so we moved back to our original seats. At
one point one of them, somewhat addled by drink, asked the others,
what's that community by Rice Village, and I almost shouted out
West University, and then apologizing for obtruding into their
conversation, hint, hint, but I didn't.

In addition to that, a pretty but also loud blonde, apparently
also a real estate agent, asked if the baseball game was on - it
was, in large format, notable because it was the only screen in
te bar, but as a consequence, one of the bartenders put up the
sound to mezzo-forte, which drowned out the realtors but gave me
a headache. Frankly, between the Nationals of the National League
and the Astros now of the American League but formerly in my day
also of the National, I hardly gave a rat's ass about the outcome.
Plus she started a conversation with some guy down the way who
was baseballish, and she said she was for the Nats, because they
were the underdogs, and on and on. Lilli was as irritated as I
was, so as soon as the news reports sounded okay we headed back,
forgetting Costco and the also important ATM. It was an easy trip
back, the valley where the San Pasqual fire had started last year
windy but untouched, and we were back soon enough. Aside from some
branches down and some stuff (lamps, decorations) strewn about,
everything looked fine. The power apparently hadn't even gone out.
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