It had to be done. I couldn’t pass up an experience at West End Bar at 6AM. I knew it would be interesting, but little did I know what I was getting into. I finished work at the stroke of 6AM and up the street is a bar that opens at that unlikely hour. In this part of Cali I guess the law says “no booze from 2AM-6AM”, and West End doesn’t cut any slack. The sun was coming up and I was skeptical about the claim on their sign. The bar looked closed as I walked up, but to my surprise, when I pulled the handle the door opened. The place was empty. Think of your favorite shitty, smelly dive bar at dawn, empty. It was daunting. But I powered forward. The bartender was a nice, sleepy seemingly, normal girl only making the experience weirder. What draws one to the 6AM shift of a bar in sleepy Birdrock?? Adam and Will had just wrapped with me so they came through. We had a normal “Friday Night” on a Thursday morning….until…
An old timer came in and ruined my weekend. Possible my life. He was drinking coffee and got to talking about his time in the service and eventually his drink of choice. Jeremiah Weed<barf in my mouth>. Its not the “spiked cola” or “extreme lemonade” I’d seen commercials for, its the original. A bourbon liquor. 100 Proof. Tastes sweet and goes down super smooth. Too smooth.
Cut to later that day. I hadn’t set an alarm and woke up as the sun set around 7PM. Head POUNDING. If you are reading this and take nothing else away, remember; Jeremiah Weed is the devil. I drag myself up and call around to see what’s going on, and believe it or not, everybody’s at a bar I’ve heard of. West End. So I staggered back to the scene of the crime, and started my “day” where my “night” ended.
***
The plan was to meet up at West End<barf a little> and head downtown to some highly recommended San Diego food and drink. We wanted to eat at Quality Social and head to El Dorado after. Apparently the West End is some kind of bar equivalent to Hotel California, you can checkout any time you like, but you can never leave. When Billy, Will and I escaped I was ravenous. Will DD’d and we drove to the Gaslamp to check out Quality Social. When we finally get there we find out they stopped serving food. Fuck. Ok. Might as well have a drink. Seemed like a cool place but I was about faint from hunger/hangover/new buzz. After some emergency yelping, and going to a couple more places yielded no food in my mouth, tensions were high. “To the Shack!” I proclaimed. The one place I know where food, booze and people will be pretty damn good until last call. As usual at the Shack, fade to black.
***
By my Sunday, I was pretty pickled. Jeremiah Weed was punching me in the cerebrum cortex every couple seconds, I was still STARVING, and had basically wasted my weekend. Well, wasted is the wrong word. I was experimenting and trying new things, but it was kicking my ass (I still blame Jeremiah Weed for everything). I did manage to get to the beach for a quick swim, and zombie-like followed a craving afterwards. “Me want lobster taco(in Frankenstein voice)”. I trucked it on foot to Bahia Don Bravo in Birdrock and quenched my blood thirst for good Mexican. In my opinion (hey I don’t live here, so open to debate), if you want good mexican in Windansea/Birdrock you got Rigaberto’s or Bahia Don Bravo. Rigaberto’s is perfect late night, street food style Mexican, and Don Bravo is a fantastic “taco shack down by the ocean” option. The lobster burrito is fucking awesome at Don Bravo. Order two, I always wish I did.
***
Later that night I met up with Adam and his friends visiting, at the Shack (shocker). Actually ventured into PB after words, to the Firehouse<report coming on this place>. Still starving and head pounding, I gorged on fried things<scene deleted>. As my weekend thankfully drew to a close, we just missed last call at The Shack (have I mentioned this place?), and I ended up falling in love with some Holiday Inn artwork. The painting is awesome, don’t let the crappy photo fool you.
cirque duford 