February 20, 2011

Vidal, Ryan Air, PETCO, the Zipper, Lunch at The Del, 100th Anniversary and the Spotter

We decided to drive to San Diego and take the trolley tour of San Diego and Coronado Island. With no road map and no directions, but with a map of Old Town in San Diego where the tours commence, we proceeded south on I 15. Finally getting nervous after 30 miles or so and worried that we might somehow end up in Mexico and become a statistic, Sugar powered up the GPS on my iPhone, and directed me right to Juan Street off Taylor Street off I 8. We parked in the parking garage of a hotel across the street from the full trolley parking lot, paid our $5 into a machine at the entrance, and walked to the trolley ticket booth and bought our tickets at $36 apiece.
After boarding the bus, our driver, Vidal, a Rubik cube solving (in two minutes, too slow to enter a contest where the finalists could solve them in 30 seconds with ONE HAND), card trick playing, retired Navy veteran introduced himself and explained that we were in Old Town, the birthplace of San Diego and the birthplace of California. He turned the trolley down along Pacific Coast Highway, the highway that used to be called the Camino Real, the Royal Highway, which linked the Spanish forts and missions along the Pacific. From San Diego, the next stop on the Camino Real was Oceanside, and then San Juan Capistrano, sites of other Spanish settlements. We stopped at the Harbor, Seaport Village, and Marriott Hotel and Marina, all the while passing one sight after another: the buildings where 60% of the 18,000 B-24’s were built in WWII by a workforce consisting of 40% women (“Rosie the Riveter”), now a Space and Aviation War Center; the field (now Lindbergh Field) where Lindbergh first took off in the Spirit of St. Louis to travel across North America to get to New York and enter the competition to win the Orteig Prize, which according to Vidal, was $25,000 to the first person to fly nonstop from New York to Paris; the building across the street from Lindbergh Field which housed Ryan Air, the company that built the Spirit of St. Louis in 60 days. We then turned away from the water, through Horton Plaza Shopping Center named after a Mr. Horton (not Willie H) who designed the city to have city blocks that are half the size of normal city blocks (giving the shops on the corners more exposure and more corners for other shops) and no alleys between buildings that would just collect garbage. Then passing through the Gaslamp Quarter, home of Wyatt Earp after his gunslinging days, back to the Bay Front and past PETCO Park, the new home of the San Diego Padres, their major league baseball team. In August of each year, according to the Book of Vidal, the ticket holders are invited to bring their pets to the baseball game and they are handed two doggie bags as they enter the Park. So to a certain doodle named Maggie, if you’re a good girl and don’t run Bay ragged while we’re away, maybe I’ll take you to a game at PETCO some day.
The trolley turned right up onto the San Diego/Coronado Bay Bridge, a five lane bridge configured for Monday morning traffic, 3 lanes going out to Coronado Island, and 2 lanes into San Diego. By 3:30 or so, each weekday afternoon, the concrete barriers in the middle will be moved to create 3 inbound lanes to San Diego and 2 outbound lanes to Coronado Island. They call this the Zipper - two machines taking about 40 minutes to move the concrete barriers across the lane to create a new center barrier.
We disembarked at the stop for the Hotel del Coronado, reputed to be one of the 10 best resorts in the world. Apparently you pay for it, the cheapest room being $350 (off season of course) and if you actually want to see the ocean from your room, the room rate with taxes and a “resort fee” is $750. It is beautiful - gleaming white in the bright sun, with its red roofs, the wide white sand beach laying alongside, with the military aircraft landing on North Island across the bay, and four small unoccupied islands a few miles offshore which are in Mexico. We decided to risk eating there, and entered the Babcock and Story where we had a delicious lunch, Sugar having her lobster bisque and pear and spinach salad, and me with a white cheddar burger with bacon, onion and tomato. We even got out of there for under $50.
Returning to the trolley stop to catch a ride back to Old Town, who should show up but Vidal again. On the way back across the Bay Bridge, Vidal pointed out to us the part of Coronado Island used by the SEALS in their training (and me saying a grateful prayer for the safe return of our now retired MDI SEAL) and then turning to the mainland shore, he pointed out the headquarters of the Pacific Fleet. He told us that last Saturday (the 12th), they had to close the bridge because they were celebrating the 100th anniversary of military aviation and the traffic was huge, with the air show and other festivities. Apparently, in 1911, Glenn Curtiss built two aircraft of his own design and bought a Wright-built plane, and then proposed to the Army to train Army men to fly so the planes could be used in the military. The Government accepted his proposal and thus, military aviation was born.
We drove by the outdoor stadium where concerts are held, unfortunately right beneath the flight path of commercial aircraft for the only runway at Lindbergh Field. The noise so bothered the performers that they hired a spotter with a set of three lights, a red, yellow and green light. The spotter would look for approaching aircraft and when he spotted one, he would put on the yellow light. As it neared the open air stadium, he would switch on the red light and the performers would stop until it passed by, at which time he would put on the green light. So much for city planning.
Through spacious Balboa Park and the center of the 56-block Little Italy, we returned to Old Town, ending our information-filled afternoon and then an easy ride home in the fading light of a blue-sky day. Thanks for going along with us. Have a wunnerful, wunnerful night. Signing off from Champagne Drive....
Love, Dad, Nat, Matt, DB

PS Happy Birthday, Peggy S! I hope you had a good one. Isn’t this your 39th?