Opinion - Columns - Kathe Tanner

Published: Thursday, Aug. 20, 2009

Ode to San Diego

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“Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. “The Japanese don't care to, the Chinese wouldn't dare to. “Hindus and Argentines sleep firmly from 12 ‘till one, “But Englishmen detest-a siesta.” Noel Coward From the musical revue "The Third Little Show" (1924)

Imagine walking into the lobby of a smallish hotel and encountering more than 30 very tall, sturdy gentlemen … in kilts.

We were in San Diego for a week, to attend and celebrate the wedding of our youngest son Sean and his lovely bride, Kim. Husband Richard and I, Son Brian and Aunt Kate from North Carolina all were lodged at a simple hotel a half-block from Pacific Beach’s wide, long, sandy shoreline.

We stayed in that coastal area as much as possible, because even that close to the ocean, the weather was unusually warm and exceptionally humid, according to TV forecasters who whimpered and whined as much as we did.

Somehow, traipsing inland to see the missions or Legoland didn’t seem prudent.

Blessedly, our hotel was one of the few places in the area with ultra-efficient air conditioning. With the thermostat set at maximum cool, Jell-O would have congealed in our room.

Traffic, too, was a factor in our decision to basically stay put by the shore. Imagine my shock, after being gone for several decades, to find bumper-to-bumper traffic essentially from Ventura to San Diego. Gridlocked city streets were commonplace, even in small cities or neighborhoods like Pacific Beach.

But there was so much beauty!

Sunday’s wedding ceremony was emotional and lovely. Sean’s two daughters and Kim’s two daughters officially became four sisters, ages nearly 7, 10, 10 and nearly 14. As attendants, they literally boogied down the garden path ahead of Kim, then stood by as longtime friend and newly ordained minister Angela Scheuring (formerly Angela West of Los Osos) did the honors.

Heading for the reception, I learned the hazards of trusting directions from an Internet map site. Amazing what a difference there is between turning left and ending two miles later at the commercial-dock area or turning right to get to the festive dinner at Seaport Village.

Monday about noon, we all converged on the San Diego Zoo, our one inland escapade. It’s an amazing place, of course, and we always enjoy seeing the animals.

But remember the old song about “Mad Dogs and Englishmen (go out in the midday sun)”? Perhaps we should have taken our cue from the critters, most of which were sound asleep in the shade, many of them out of sight.

Tuesday was our last full vacation day in San Diego. We had brunch again at the Cantina, our favorite shorefront café that perches next to the wide and busy walkway/bikeway/skateboard-and-roller-skate haven and near-nude boardwalk that separates the beach from neighboring buildings.

No cover (no matter how you define it), no minimum, and lots of people-watching entertainment to spice up your coconut French toast or scrambled eggs with artichokes and onions.

In keeping with our stay-at-the-coast decision, we drove Kate to Point Loma and Cabrillo National Monument. Scenic hint: The visitor center offers a spectacular view of downtown San Diego’s shoreline and beyond.

Arriving back at our hotel, we were confronted with all those kilts.

It’s amazing how different bare male knees look beneath a kilt instead of wrinkled surfer shorts and swim trunks, ubiquitous attire along Pacific Beach.

Kilts have dignity, somehow, even if the wearers risk losing theirs during momentary lapses of posture. (No, I didn’t ask what they wore underneath.)

I spotted a set of bagpipes, then some NYFD badges. As a terminally curious reporter, I had to ask: What were three dozen New York firefighters in kilts doing at our hotel in San Diego?

Apparently, members of New York City Fire Department’s Emerald Society Pipes & Drums unit were to perform at a San Diego Firehouse Museum fundraiser that night. The next day, the group would star at Del Mar Racetrack’s season opener.

What fun! Yes, we were a little apprehensive about whether it would be exceptionally noisy when they all returned to their rooms late after the evening fundraiser. Surprise! We didn’t hear a peep. They must have tiptoed in.

The next morning, as we packed up to leave, the firemen looked so … different in shorts, jeans and T-shirts … just like the rest of us, only taller. We thought wistfully about staying long enough to see them all suited up again, but no. Our summertime San Diego adventure was over. We’d had fun, but it was time to go home.

Editor’s note: For more about the Emerald Society, go to www.fdnypipesanddrums.net.