Sunday, Sept. 26 (continued)

After the game we went to check in at the Marriott, where we would stay the next three nights. Scott and Amanda weren�t impressed with the rooms since they weren�t any nicer or bigger than our room at the Hampton Inn or the Motel 6 where Amanda and Michelle stayed the previous two nights. But the Marriott was right on the marina, plus it had several services such as a fitness center, tennis courts, fancy pool, concierge service and shops and restaurants. None of which I used.

Not to mention every female at the check-in desk was attractive. The one who checked us in was a Britney Spears clone. Of course, this didn�t bother me at all. Baby, I told her (in my head because I would never have the guts to say it out loud), you can check me in one more time! Hoowah!

Also better than previous hotels, our room was on the 17th floor (actually 16th because there's no 13th floor), so we had a great view of the city. A view of the coast on the other side of the hotel was considerably more costly, though.

At the end of the hall a few doors down I could look out and see the harbor, which was particularly breathtaking. The sun was

	Looking out the window towards the marina outside our hotel.

blocked by clouds but its rays shone on every side of the cloud, streaking down to the water and highlighting the ships floating on steady seas. It was a very poetic view that was calming and serene, where you take a deep breath and thank God he gave you this life.

We met up with Amanda (Scott�s friend and coworker) and Michelle (Amanda�s friend) for dinner, driving along the coast to Anthony�s Fish Grotto. It was a fairly ritzy place, with prices not found at Taco Bell unless you order a chicken salad, Mexican Pizza, six-pack of soft tacos, two burrito supremes and large Pepsi.

A quick introduction to Amanda and Michelle: The former is a firecracker, constantly finding something to say and like me can make a serious situation a joke in one nanosecond. She is not afraid to draw attention to herself, nor is she afraid to go up and talk to strangers. You�ll see the best example of this later in the page. Michelle is quieter, allowing Amanda to dominate a conversation. She selects her words carefully to get the most out of every sentence, therefore not saying a whole lot. Michelle is outgoing also, and I was impressed how she could strike up a conversation with a stranger at a table and be very interested in the person. Needless to say, with two different personalities to hang out with plus Scott and me in the mix, I had a good time as the four of us traveled San Diego for a few days.

At the Grotto three of us had shark, and Michelle had something I don�t remember because I wasn�t carrying a notebook to the restaurant. You understand. It was my first shark-eating experience, and tasted like any other fishy seafood. No big deal. See, Dad, I�m trying new foods without even having to be tricked. [Background for the rest of you: In Venezuela in 1994 Dad did not tell me that I was eating squid and other assorted seafood that I was too wimpy to try purposely. Turns out I enjoyed it.]

The Grotto service was annoyingly substandard. It took 10 minutes for the server to make an appearance and get our drink orders! Then he brought the wrong side items to me and Michelle, giving her a baked potato instead of fries, and giving me fries instead of a baked potato. So we both ended up with a baked potato and fries. Apparently our server was too enthralled with the special episode of �Sabrina, The Teenage Witch� to care about his customers. The show was playing over the bar, and I gotta say, I�d much rather watch Melissa Joan Hart save a mermaid than sports while I�m drinking.

During one of the server�s 10-minute intervals of walking within 25 feet of us so we could grab him, we finally got our check and departed the fine Grotto. I just like saying that word. Go ahead, say it out loud slowly, I�ll wait�.

The next night some unknown stranger in an elevator informed us that former House Speaker Newt Gingrich was spotted eating at the Grotto. Apparently he didn�t get our note about the service. No word on whether the former Speaker was with his ex-wife, his soon to be ex-wife, or his mistress.

I hope Scott and Amanda�s bosses don�t read this journal unless the management of CNA is very cool and understanding. Why? Because neither cared about the LOMA conference they were in San Diego to attend free of charge. I don�t think Amanda ever made it to even one function except for the final banquet, and Scott attended two, maybe three functions.

Sunday night, they shunned the 950 other members of LOMA at the Calypso party, which I was glad since I�m not the partying-with-strangers kind of guy, and was definitely not going to wear a balloon hat on my head as is the custom at the annual party. When a guy from Nationwide Insurance asked if Scott was going to wear a balloon hat, I thought it was a hazing ritual to make the new guys embarrassed, but nope, everyone wears one.

While in San Diego I discovered a really cool new syndicated show called �Blind Date.� I had never seen it before and thought it was a Left Coast program, but when I returned to Atlanta I saw where it airs twice at midnight on the WB affiliate.

Scott's recollections Part 4: � � � (After the game) We made our way out of the stadium parking lot (30-45 minutes later!) and got to the Marriott and checked in. We went out to dinner with my friends Amanda and Michelle. Amanda also earned her FLMI and works here at CNA with me. We all ate Pacific shark for the first time. It was ok, but nothing spectacular. We had a great view of the harbor, so that made the dinner worth it. But it wasn't any better than Red Lobster, sad to say. � � � Monday morning I was to see Tony Snow speak. He writes a syndicated column and hosts one of those political shows on Sunday morning. He sometimes subs for Rush Limbaugh. He is conservative, used to be one of Bush's speechwriters in the White House. He was a great speaker. Very funny, told many Clinton jokes. But he was equal opportunity, and made jokes of Republicans when the opportunity presented itself. � � � Monday night Jeff and I went out with another girl named Michelle, who graduated with me in high school. Back then her name was Michelle Richardson, now she is Michelle McGee. We went to the Hard Rock Cafe and did some shopping.

The show follows a man and a woman on an actual blind date as they usually do three things: athletic (beach volleyball, gym), dinner and after-dinner dancing or romancing. At first I was worried that I wouldn�t like the show because I hate watching people embarrass themselves or in awkward moments. But the producers add their own touch to the date with graphics such as an attraction meter or examples of �What not to say,� and then they show a stupid comment by one of the daters. The show is a hoot, and worth checking out for a laugh.

Monday, Sept. 27

Things look bleak for our hero on this day.

I was flat-out feeling disgusting. I didn�t have a headache or feel sore or anything flu-like, but my sinuses were still acting up, causing me to make some great noises clearing my nose and throat that I�m sure Scott appreciated all week. So I was just kind of �blah� all day, not in a jovial mood and sans emotion on my face, so any attempts at my abundant humor resources also fell flat.

What didn�t make it any better was that I was feeling ugly. That�s right, my ego took a shot this day. I had a fever blister on my lip, punctuated with a pimple directly between my lip and chin. These blemishes could surely been seen from a satellite, and those guys at NASA always need someone else to make fun of, and I was definitely their guy today. Oh, yeah, to top it off my sunburn from the game Sunday was giving up such a red glow, planes were landing behind me.

It was so bad, I didn�t make the effort to wake up at 8 a.m. so I could listen to Tony Snow speak at the conference. Snow is one of my favorite conservative broadcasters and columnists, and any other day I would have been there an hour early to sit in the front row and meet him. Scott did make it, and said he was a pretty good speaker, telling plenty of Clinton jokes. Dadgummit! Why did I have to feel bad today!?

I finally climbed out of bed by 11 a.m. (like the old days in college), and our fabulous foursome drove to the La Jolla (pronounced ho-ya) area of San Diego, which is a popular spot for dining and shopping. Despite the fine dining it was only lunchtime so we picked up some burgers at Jack-in-the-Box to eat along the Pacific Ocean.

It was overcast, but photogenic nonetheless. We chose a picnic table on a bluff overlooking the beach, with plenty of sea gulls and pigeons flying around to keep us company. In fact, they had already laid out a welcome mat/picnic table the best way they know how: crap on it. Yes, we ate on a table topped with plenty of dried bird poop. No, we didn�t eat directly off of it, we used the wrappers as a comfortable barrier between burger and pooh.

It took approximately .0002 seconds for Amanda to discover the two surfers (known from here out as The Dudes) enjoying the sizeable waves on this day. After cheering them on from a half-mile away, she decided to talk to The Dudes as they took off their wetsuits next to their beat-up white Toyota pickup. Michelle soon joined her cohort talking to The Dudes, as Scott moseyed down to the water so he could say he �touched� the Pacific Ocean, while I sat on the picnic bench enjoying the breeze and the birds.

Despite chickening-out and not asking The Dudes to teach them to surf, Amanda instead devised a plan that summed up as �If I tell people I surfed, then I did surf.� It might have worked, but over the next two days her day of surfing also became flying an F-16 at air base and other fun�if made up�activities in San Diego.

After being suitably impressed by The Dudes, we stopped at a supermarket for as many legal drugs as possible, most notably antihistamines, aspirin and caffeine. Then after dropping off the females at the hotel, Scott and me had to return the car. If you think gas is expensive nowadays, try California, where it was $1.60 a gallon! Ouch!

The entire process of returning the car took a little over an hour and was fairly quick, except that we had to take a shuttle from Budget to the airport, then take another shuttle from the airport to the Marriott. We quickly realized, though, that Marriott doesn�t have its own shuttle, and thus stood around for 10 minutes before realizing which shuttle we were supposed to take (having been too forgetful to ask Amanda or Michelle which shuttle they took the day before). So we squeezed into the $5 Cloud 9 shuttle (I�m tired of the word shuttle, but I don�t know any others to use!) with a couple carrying their baby, and returned to the hotel for some relaxation and preparation for the evening.

We spent Monday evening with an old friend of Scott�s from high school, Michelle McGee-Richardson. Yep, she�s married. That�s what the dash means. Since there are now two women named Michelle in my journal, Mrs. McGee will be referred to as Michelle M. I did not really remember her, but I did recall the name somewhere in the deep recesses of my memory banks in the high school section which I�ve frantically tried to stow away in a time capsule with a note labeled �Geek years, only open when necessary.� I recall that Scott was fond of her and she was a cutie, but other than that I draw a blank.

You want to know what line not to use when you meet someone? Try mine when we found each other in the lobby: �I didn�t like any of Scott�s friends back then.� Whoa! I cannot think of any better mood-killer in the English language. There might be something the French use, but I�m not sure. Whatever you do, please refrain from insulting your host upon meeting them.

I do want to apologize to Michelle M., because I have no idea what she thought about this dull guy plodding along behind her and Scott as they had a good time.

Let me step back a minute, because I have to squeeze in another happening on the same level. When we returned to the hotel after La Jolla, I walked in the hotel with the females so I could drop off our drugs at the room. Feeling as down as I was, when walking through the hall and up the elevator I didn�t say a single word to Amanda or Michelle, nor did I even acknowledge their existence. I feel bad, and I was sure they would think I was the biggest loser and/or meanie (for lack of a better word) on the planet. But I promise I was just tired and ill, and promise that I�m much more playful and fun to be with than the few days spent in San Diego.

The same goes for Michelle M. Sorry I was such a party-pooper! I am very glad, though, that we were meeting up with Michelle McGee-Richardson and not whom I thought at first, Michelle Fitzpatrick. The latter was the most annoying person, man or woman, I have ever come across, and certainly the most repulsive to be around. Not looks, but personality. So, thank you Michelle M. for not being Michelle F.!

We hopped in Michelle M.�s green Geo Metro where she took us back out to La Jolla to eat at the Hard Rock Caf�. There is another close to the hotel in the Gaslamp District, but La Jolla offers better shopping, and Scott needed to buy something for wifey-poo Jenn.

Dinner was filled with Scott and Michelle M. reminiscing while I listened, trying to find parts that I might remember. I didn�t feel left out because they were the old friends, not me. But she was also a friend of Eric, Scott�s closest friend throughout junior high and high school who I also attended church with, so I was actually interested in some of the conversation.

Michelle M. is all grown up now, having married a Marine named Randy who spends too much time away doing the country�s bidding, currently in Turkey. They have a 19 month-old son, Zachary, whom we didn�t have the pleasure of meeting since she had a babysitter.

After dinner we walked along the shops of La Jolla. I know what you�re doing. Even though I told you it was pronounced ho-ya, you�re still reading it as the American jol-la. Don�t try to deny it, it�s just how you were raised.

Being that it was after 8 p.m., most of the shops were closed for the evening, but we did find a few. Scott bought Jenn a necklace from a store called The Ancient Mariner, named after the poem, �Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner.� You know, it�s the one with the line �Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink� where the captain kills an albatross, bringing bad luck to the crew. See, you did know it all along.

It was a very cool store and where we spent most of our time looking at the seafaring knickknacks and expensive models and jewels. I love this sort of motif, and Scott and Jenn are applying it as the theme for their apartment, so I know Jenn would have loved to check out this store.

There must be a dozen art galleries along a 400-yard stretch, none of which contains art I can afford. But it looks gosh darn purdy, ya know? Yup. There are also another dozen trendy restaurants and coffee bars scattered about. Again, not really my crowd, but these people seemed to be having fun.

How 'bout if I just let the folks at La Jolla.net do the talking:

La Jolla in Spanish means "The Jewel." It is the Jewel of America's finest city, San Diego. La Jolla is located 15 minutes from downtown San Diego. It has wonderful beaches, cultural activities and fine restaurants. La Jolla is an exquisite combination of a southern European resort atmosphere and Southern California fun.While La Jolla is known to be one of the most affluent communities in the United States, it has a down to earth sense due to the beautiful natural scenery and the helpfulness of its residents. Moreover, in addition to fine restaurants, beautiful beaches and art galleries, La Jolla is home to renowned institutions, such as the Scripps Institution of Oceanography and the Stephen Birch Aquarium & Museum. This is in addition to the University of California, San Diego.Furthermore, La Jolla is home to many Bio-Tech and software companies. In short, La Jolla is a great place to live in, visit, or do business.

Why don�t I live along the coast? I know why, because I plan on being president of CNN within 20 years. But when I am I will live either along the Chattahoochee River or on Lake Lanier, which is about an hour northeast of downtown Atlanta.

I feel at peace with the world when I am walking along the waterfront, listening to the sounds or taking a pleasant whiff of nature. It is when I can truly say I have felt closer to God, whether it is walking along the beach at Rio de Janeiro in July, or walking with Stacy and Joe on the riverfront in Louisville last month. My most special moment occurred while laying on the docks of the lake at Hot Springs, Arkansas, five years ago. On a night like this one, as my self-esteem took a shot and I doubted where I was headed in life and prayed to God, one second after I asked �God, are you listening to me,� a falling star streaked overhead. These moments are when you know the world was not just a random coincidence of atoms, but created by a higher being.

Like every walk along the coast, though, this one had to end as well. Michelle M. had to get back home and pick up Zachary by 11, so we went back to the hotel and conversed for a few minutes before Scott walked her back to her car to say goodbye and express our thanks for being such a good hostess.

Then we went straight to bed because we were tired! Besides, Tuesday was going to be a great day, as LOMA was taking us to the world famous San Diego Zoo!