Keeping the world at bay in Big Laguna

Many married couples have a certain city to which they return periodically to relive their honeymoon, or to finally get it right. For Patti Jo and I that town is San Francisco, and last week we were there for three days on a travelpackageChristmas-gift to ourselves.

Among the big cities, San Francisco seems the one that’s most like Laguna Beach. In fact, San Francisco would recognize Laguna Beach as its Mini-Me. Pacific Ocean, hills, cultural zing, cachet, homeless people, pricey real estate and restaurants ? we share them all.

So last week we went to Big Laguna, to the Westin-St. Francis hotel. For three mornings in a row a courteous hotel employee wheeled in our breakfast on a cart. We studied the menu the night before, making the difficult choice between eggs benedict and crusted French toast, and then watched the cart come rolling in every morning. You get used to it, having your covered breakfast wheeled in. It’s the way it should be.

We didn’t keep up with the president, the vice president, Iraq, Iran, the ports deal, the Danish cartoons, the Oscar nominees, Jessica and Nick, Jennifer and Vince ? although we did, one day, watch women’s Olympic curling and I got a little crush on Mirjam Ott of Switzerland. Patti Jo didn’t mind; she knew it was just another luxury. We’d never have watched curling at home.

We walked around together for a day, then split up to follow our noses. Patti Jo was a bit embarrassed about going to Macy’s ? “I could do that at home” ? but this Macy’s was right outside the hotel, and it was so big you couldn’t avoid it. She also went to Chinatown and found some lanterns.

I went looking for a used-book store in Turk Street, where the buildings are covered with graffiti and the natives are frank and loud. They sometimes come right up to you to discuss theological or economic issues, and they can be intimidating.

Years ago I read that the actor John Astin, when young and walking home from the subway in a dangerous New York neighborhood, would make himself as disheveled as possible and lurch along the sidewalk in an erratic manner. He figured that an alarming person won’t mug an even more alarming person.

Following Astin’s Law, I strode down Turk Street talking out loud to myself ? a good, animated conversation. I talk to myself now and then anyway, so it was easy to crank it up a bit. And it worked ? I was as undisturbed on Turk Street as I’d have been in my office. The other talkers kept to themselves, and the tourists walked in semi-circles to get around me.

For three days Patti Jo and I ate well and shopped well; we were a hedonistic juggernaut. We did what we wanted and lived without care.

Now we’re back home, and of course we’re happy here, but we’re not so free.

There’s responsibility again. And breakfast isn’t quite so special. We could make our own eggs benedict, I suppose, but it wouldn’t be the same. We left our cart in San Francisco.