It’s August 2001, five friends and I take a week long adventure to San Diego—in the college area near San D State U—to visit one of our best friends, Kyle, who’d moved there after high school with his brother. We invaded Ocean and Pacific Beaches, squirmed as elephants shit and walked simultaneously at the famous San Diego Zoo, and drank cheap buckets of Corona and bought Mexican wrestling masks (think "Nacho Libre") and nickel-priced gum packets from roaming children in Tijuana. After seven days, I was hooked on So Cal. It was the most alluring place I’d ever been—waves, burritos, and women hotter than the sun. Surfing infected my life and hasn’t stopped. I’ve been visiting there several times yearly ever since to surf and hang out. I've gotten to the Trestles WCT contest a few times and even spent a short stint hoboing at Kyle’s for two months in fall 2005, when I really learned about the region.
Nobody really gives a shit about me, but I wanted to explain my infatuation with the west coast and my motivation to relocate there one day soon. It’s also why much of the surfing content on this blog has a Cali slant to it.
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