Dearest Rachel –
I’m giving myself just a little more than two hours from check-out at the hotel until my pick up for the cruise port. As I’m scheduled to show up for check-in at two, that gives me 45 minutes to ride those six miles, which may be absurdly too much time to get there. But after that trip from the airport, I’m not necessarily going to trust how long it takes to get anywhere in traffic. Even on a Sunday.
So what do I do with myself in those two hours? Well, again, I’ve given up on wandering about the city, but there’s so much just within a block or two of the hotel and convention center that it’s hardly necessary to go much further. For starters, I cross over the highway I was able to see from my room, and wander through what turns out to be the Pine Avenue Pier.
So many restaurants, so little appetite. Of course, most of these – apart from the occasional food truck – are familiar chain places, so no harm done.
The area also has a lot of… interesting architecture to catch one’s eye, even if it may not have any historical or otherwise landmark significance.
There are a few things that I can see I’m already going to regret not having done.
Had I not bothered to soak my shoe last night, maybe I could’ve gone on one of these cruises, depending on how long they were going, and whether they ran at night – and for how long. Although, to be fair, our generation (along with the one before us) knows – thanks to a certain silly television show – for just how long a “three-hour tour” can drag on. Still, I suppose it’s on me for not wandering about sooner, and checking it out; but then, I had other priorities.
Yeah, some things aren’t what they seem to be; such, I suppose, is California architecture.
But this is my dilemma; do I engage in something, given the relatively small amount of time I have, and if so, what? Well, here’s what I did:
There’s a meme going around of some guy who’s gotten himself a tattoo allegedly saying “No Regrets”; however, the ‘artist’ (to use that term as generously as possible) has misspelled the word ‘regrets,’ ironically leaving his unfortunate – client? victim? – with a serious regret even as he insists, by way of the tattoo itself, that he does not. At least I hope it’s a meme, although it wouldn’t surprise me that some unfortunate fellow has just such a tattoo (although if he has it simply because of the ironic humor inherent in the paradox, I guess that’s his claim to make, if it makes him sleep better at night).
But whereas he may have a regret for something he’s done, I would have one for something – indeed, several somethings – that I might not have. And I can’t have that happening. So I’ve done what I can, so I don’t have to wish I did them when I hadn’t. That would be a nice principle to live by going forward, don’t you think?
Anyway, I’ll talk to you later, once I’m on the ship. Until then, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 