legalacidity's musings


The Dub in San Diego

I'm writing this entry while sitting at the ultra-mod desk in my room at the W Hotel in San Diego. I can honestly say that I've never experienced a hotel stay anywhere near what I'm currently having. This place is, well, just damn cool. Right now, there's a party raging in the "Living Room," which is actually the lobby of the hotel. A DJ is spinning music, and the most eclectic group of people this side of the UN is breaking it down on the dance floor, which is mere feet from the front desk. Oh, and there's a full bar (with roving waitresses) at the back of the Living Room. Velvet ropes are set up at the front entrance, and the rather large doorman will only let you in that way if you are a hotel guest (lucky for me and my friends). The "bar" entrance is around the corner on the side and has another set of ropes and a line. It's absolute insanity and I love it. One funny thing is that there were people trying their best to just check in to the hotel, but they were being swallowed up by the masses on the dance floor. It's always fun to watch someone with a huge rolling suitcase tap a scantily-clad model-type on the shoulder to get her out of the way so that they can get to the elevator. Great stuff.

This hotel also has a second-floor "Beach Bar," which is an outdoor bar complete with sand and private cabanas, a copper fire pit, and a plethora of couches. There was a line to get in there, too, but as a hotel "resident," we were whisked to the front and shown to the sand. Unreal. There's nothing remotely "normal" about this hotel, and that's why I love it. One thing that does bother me, though, is that with the crazy mix of people, you'd think there'd be people that could dance. This IS the west coast, after all. However, my friends and I were treated to a hilarious display of dancing inadequacy that makes the fifty-something executive on the company retreat look like Justin Timberlake. Our favorite were the two forty-something women who danced non-stop for a good hour, recreating an odd mix of the hokey pokey and the twist into a display of dancing lunacy. I'm surprised that the hotel security (who were everywhere) didn't just stop them and revoke their dancing licenses. It was that bad.

Why am I here? A moot court competition for law school. Although my team, in my mind, did really well (one panel of judges, after the first round results were announced, told me that they had my team first out of all the teams they judged), we didn't advance to the quarterfinals, which were held earlier tonight. No worries. Chuck, the kickass concierge, hooked us up with a reservation at a posh seafood restaurant on Coronado, an island off the coast of California. One quick ferry ride and we were dining in style, checking out the excellent view of the San Diego skyline while we ate some excellent seafood. First class all the way. I jokingly told my friends that they would be going back to school without me; funny thing is, I'm half serious about that. I'm almost convinced San Diego is the greatest city in the world.

A few blocks down from the hotel is the Gaslamp District, a nice little area with 75 or so restaurants, bars, taverns, etc. We found the best sports bar I've ever been in (aside from Varsity Blue in Lexington) to watch the 'Bama game tomorrow. It's called the Gaslamp Tavern & Grill, and since they just opened a couple of weeks ago, they were hungry for business, so our presumably redneck accents didn't scare them away. And they promised us the game in all of it's glory on several of their many flatscreen televisions. The place is situated on a corner and is set up so that if you are sitting at the bar, you face the streets on either side of the tavern, which is really cool because all of the windows in the place slide open, giving it an open air feel. Since there's no smoking inside at bars or restaurants in California, virtually every place has an outdoor seating area for smokers (or people who just want to enjoy the magnificent weather). Our little sports tavern is no different, and with the bar set up like it is, you can be inside or out and still get a drink in no time. That, and the fact that the place has a gazillion flat screens and pretty decent food. (Only problem is that 'Bama kicks off at 12:30 Pacific time, but no worries--the place opens at 10:00 a.m.!)

Well, I'm off to bed. I'm hoping that the lobby is still kicking in the morning when we make our short walk to the bar for the game, but I'm sure they'll have it restored to a halfway-normal looking hotel lobby. The doorman did, however, promise me that the place would be even crazier tomorrow night. I cannot way to see what will be happening then...I can only hope for a return of the Hokey Pokey Twisters and a repeat of their glorious dancing show.

2:46 a.m. - 2005-11-05

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