It’s 3 AM and our downtown San Diego apartment still buzzes with party and electric skyline. After getting security called on us three times for too much “body-ody-ody,” everyone’s made their way to bed, where each room has its own unique subtext:
Brie’s drunken, sun-kissed body drifts from the couch to the air mattress:
“What the fuck are you doing down here?,” Elise mutters.
“Kristy donkey kicked me seven times. Can I sleep with you?”
In another room, Ariana’s trying to sleep when Greg stumbles in with three Trulys and Mariah Carey YouTube. Not so fast, hunnie.
Rachel and I are just down the hall. The warmth of our bodies under a white down comforter mixes with vodka for a pungent humidity that engulfs the room and will wake us up too early. She will be topless. I will be confused. We will both be sticky. It’s not what you think.
The comedy of girls’ trips lies in the little “you had to be there” moments. Like when we asked the staff at one winery the quickest route to the next and they advised us to scale a steep hill through a rugged vineyard, tipsy in sundresses. I felt like a character in an early 2000s party movie that only Tara Reid could play, gripping my bedazzled cowboy hat, just barely avoiding a broken ankle.
In my personal hierarchy of needs, friendship reigns supreme. And this particular group of women (plus our Monica who couldn’t make it) has renewed my faith in humanity. Trips like these foster moments both chaotic and serene that I look back on thinking, “damn, I wish that was my life”... until I remember it was and still is and how am I so lucky to have this much fun?
The pandemic has made travel impossible, but as we all get vaxxed and places reopen, I wanted to share our Southern California adventures to inspire your next trip:
Day 1: We arrived in San Diego and immediately ate tacos at The Taco Stand. WHEW that camaron was maybe the best taco I’ve ever had in the US? Then we hit the road to scope some views at Cabrillo National Monument, Mount Soledad, and the otherworldly La Jolla Cove. The seals were a full sensory experience; they smelled like a can of tuna left in the sun for all of July and the sheer number of them was wild. If you ever visit La Jolla Cove, be sure to get the charcoal vanilla gelato from Bobboi Natural Gelato and a skrong ass coffee from Living Room.
Day 2: You may not be privy to this info, but exactly one seltzer (chugged) makes for ideal hike prep. We hiked Torrey Pines all afternoon and I was truly awestruck by the coastal views. Then we had a disappointing lunch with good drinks at El Prez and got ready for the night. Ariana’s favorite restaurant in SD is a modern Italian spot called Barbusa. She knows the workers and frequented there when she first moved. The second we all sat down at our round table (spacious round tables need to be more of a thing!) I knew it was about to pop off. I actually didn’t know dinner could be so exhilarating??? Besides those who’d been, Barbusa introduced *all* of us to a different type of dining experience: they play loud bangers the whole time. Like, your fav DJ throwing down while you twirl spicy crab spaghettini. And you can still somehow engage in conversation! Bellissimo! Afterward, we went to a bar and stayed up until 4 AM talking.
Day 3: The gals hit the road for TEMECULA: the wine country of Southern California! Say Napa Valley is your posh aunt Victoria who won’t let you drink reds around her vintage Italian furniture. Temecula is her drunk bestie who stained it all in the first place, thus the rule. We hit a few wineries during the day, but the real show-stopper was Wilson Creek: the wine was meh, but the big outdoor, live music experience was a blast. Then, we had dinner at Baily’s in Old Town. First of all, Old Town is absurdly cute and fun. Bars and lights and young people everywhere! (How had I never heard of Temecula before this trip!?) Secondly, Baily’s ended up being like Barbusa in that you sit down for dinner expecting a normal atmosphere, a DJ comes on, and before you know it, you’re twerking with a cheeseburger in hand (true story). Before our meal even ended, the whole place turned into a nightclub. We shook our asses to old Selena and club jams all night.
Day 4: Elise lives in Newport Beach, so that’s where we spent our final day. In the afternoon, we grabbed Mexican from an incredible hole in the wall called El Toro Bravo Tortilleria with a line down the street of all Spanish speakers, which is how you know it’s good. Those barbacoa nachos changed my life. Later on, we rounded up drinks, a bunch of poke from Bear Flag, and rented a duffy boat, which made for a huge highlight of the trip. Duffy boats are spacious, inexpensive, and you drive them yourself. It even had an aux cord compatible with newer iPhones, which is to say we almost crashed into million dollar yachts multiple times whilst blaring Cardi B. All along the water, we feasted our eyes upon some of Orange County’s most spectacular homes. Post-duffy was a glorious sunset over the beach. We walked around the pier area eventually landing on some shitty snack stand where we whipped out a bottle of vodka and ate fried Oreos. Back at Elise’s, we partied all night, lamenting our early return home.
Clearly one can pack a lot of activities (read: drinking in beautiful places) into four days out west. I hope you book a flight and warm your quarantined skin under the golden sun, and if you take nothing else away from this, just remember to have the most beautifully trippy crew by your side—it makes all the difference.
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