Tequila in San Diego
I found myself on the cusp of a foreign country in one of the most patriotic cities in the western U.S. San Diego was a Navy town with men and women in uniform around every corner. My name is Cecil T. Wulfe. It wasn’t my favorite city because the weather was too perfect. I am fair skinned and the sunshine wasn’t good for my health. I also felt pressure to appear happy all of the time because of the climate. I craved somewhere to wallow in my “rainy day” mood.
I walked out of the hotel where I was staying, to the nearest strip mall and Spanky’s Bar & Grill. The yellow sign with a sun gave off an Aztec vibe and I sauntered in. I pulled open the glass door and saw groups of people standing at brightly colored tables. I felt as if I’d stumbled into an ice cream parlor. Some customers were in military uniforms and others in vacation attire. My table was pacific blue Formica with yellow steel backed stools but like everyone else, I stood next to the table and ignored the chair. The bartender was also the server, who scampered back and forth from behind the bar. The crowd in Spanky’s was sparse.
“What can I get you?” A tall skinny man took my order. He wore a bright yellow polo that made him look jaundiced. He looked uncomfortable in the obnoxious garb – who wouldn’t.
“What’s good?” I wasn’t sure what kind of libation I wanted. “Name’s Cecil.”
“The guys at the red table just ordered a round of tequila sunrises.”
“Hmm. Are they even old enough to drink legally?”
“Yeah, plus or minus a month. Can I set you up, Cecil?”
“Sure. Hey the song of the same name by the Eagles is playing. Quite a coincidence.”
“Not really cuz it plays a couple of times an hour in here. There’s free chips and salsa by the bar.”
He walked away leaving me time to absorb the ambiance. I filled a basket with chips and watched the bartender work his magic. From a cooler the bartender grabbed a cold highball glass among the dozens. He filled the glass completely with ice before adding a measured shot of white bar tequila and orange juice, which poured from a plastic carafe. With a slender bar spoon, he mixed the concoction that came within ½ an inch from the rim. The bartender rubbed his hands together before picking up a bottle of grenadine and slowly poured it down the sides so it slid over the other ingredients. He seemed to know I was watching him because he garnished the drink as if it was the finale of a magic show. The tequila sunrise was placed on my table with a lime wedge and lemon slice clinging to the rim; and a cherry on top. I felt as though the bartender expected applause.
“Pretty drink and I’m sure it’s tasty too. As I’ve been sitting here I think I have those young men figured out. They’re wash-outs from the Navy who don’t know what to do next. It looks as though they’re trying out surfing and working hard to look the part. The three of them have the exact same shade of blonde hair, which is from a bottle. They are in need of root touch ups. The length of their hair is similar as if they’re all growing it out from a shorter perhaps military cut. Do you see them here often?”
“Every day I work, which is Monday, Wednesday and Friday.”
“Is this information you’d rather not hear?” I asked.
“Oh. No. It get’s boring around here and I enjoy the chatter. You aren’t a detective are you?”
“No.” I laughed. “I’m just a traveler who likes to observe. Those boys forgot that in order to be surf bums you must have some sort of job to survive. I’m betting their Navy benefits are running dry and I doubt they tip very well.”
“Hardly at all. They order one round of tequila sunrises and stand around for a couple of hours.”
I felt sorry for the barkeep because he didn’t realize that the young men were bringing in liquor from the outside. They were freshening up their own drinks and taking advantage of the free chips. The boys at the red table probably didn’t even own surf boards. All their cash was spent on hair dye and board shorts.
The bartender got ready to return to the bar. “They’re not breaking any laws so I guess I’ll leave em alone. Flag me down if you want another.”
The three men at the red table were mouthing the lyrics to Tequila Sunrise as I glanced out the window at the actual sunrise.
Take another shot of courage
Wonder why the right words never come
You just get numb
