Pacifica Beach is a blue- collar town south of San Francisco. It is north of Moss Beach and Half Moon Bay. Apparently, it is undergoing some gentrification issues, as the housing market in California forces more and more yuppies to invade on peripheral urban neighborhoods. Don Johnson is not a yuppie, but he lives in Pacifica, and walks his dog every morning on this beach.
When we drove up from Half Moon Bay, we realized that we had beaten the fog, as Pacifica had lots of sunshine to offer. Dan had a box of cigars, but I decided that this was a good spot for Josh, Dan and I to each smoke the last three Cuban cigars I had from my trip to Havana last year. So, we each lit up our Cohiba cigars, and walked towards the Pacific Ocean on Pacifica Beach. I touched the water, and it was freezing.
As we walked back with cigars in hand, a nice sense of Old California came to mind. This must have been what the pioneers felt when they had finally reached the end of their wild wild west. From sea to shining sea.
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