Tom Wolfe Bought Me a Hawaiian Lunch
AKA: The time a homeless woman in San Diego gave me money.
Among the shadows of towering palms along La Jolla Boulevard on the northern edges of San Diego’s Pacific Beach neighborhood sits West End. The bar is most famous for being the home base of Tom Wolfe’s Pumphouse Gang but it has much more history than that for the locals. The ghost of Wolfe is felt just walking by, the feeling of a time past, a freewheeling feeling of peace and love emanates like the odor of stale beer and sunscreen.
When I landed in San Diego, I knew I’d be staying close to West End. My friend’s apartment is just a block away. The saltwater air breezing in and out of his place like Tom Wolfe’s ghost. I had every intention of stopping in for a beer, just to say I was there and as many times as I walked by it to grab more ceviche at Oscar’s over the next few days, I never did go in. But right after I landed, we walked up the street to get an early lunch. I hadn’t eaten and wanted to put a good base down before I became soaked in pineapple juice, coconut cream, and rum.
We walked by West End and headed to a takeout Hawaiian place. I am not a religious man, but God must live in San Diego. It’s a caricature of itself, a fake southern California prop set for a movie. Taco stands…
