At the end of the pier was another Mexican restaurant that had an upstairs patio bar that would be perfect for sitting and sipping a margarita while watching the sun set, which was due to happen in about fifteen minutes. If I had anything in mind that I was determined to do while out on the West Coast, it was to see the sun set over the ocean. It was everything I imagined it would be.
After the sunset and the margaritas, we headed back through the outdoor mall, which was now lined with street musicians. Everything from twelve-year-old guitar players to Christian gospel singers (complete with hands-raised, eyes-closed onlookers) to breakdancers to a mariachi band was there. We wove our way through the crowds at the mall and headed back to the apartment to get changed and go out drinking. We went to Hermosa Beach, just south of Manhattan Beach, which according to the drunk woman who was talking to me at the jukebox later that night, was at one time the Hippie epicenter of Southern California. The “cool” bars had lines to get in, so we decided to go to a dive bar just off the beaten path which proved to be a much better time.