Encinitas loop

Sometimes it's like being in a movie.

It's a little before 6 a m, and I'm a half hour from home, driving up I-5 early to to beat the LA rush hour on my way north. I'm chanting the kototama 50 sounds as I occasionally do behind the wheel, one sound per breath. I am intoning PO-, when I hear a loud POP! I calmly think to myself, hmmm, if I had to guess I'd say I just blew out my left front tire. I notice the right lane is up against a cement barricade, but I ease over anyway. As I'm slowing down, the wall ends and a space opens up to pull over, just as my rim is really starting to clunk on the last shreds of tire. And I arrive at a safe little cove just out of traffic flow.

Oddly, I'm between exits in Encinitas, the new-agey beach town, where Rich, the accordian player, lives--and where I keep thinking I might end up moving. I feel quite safe. I-5 is rough--a very busy freeway, where traffic is now really picking up--but all things considered, this is about the best spot on the whole 650-mile route that I could have broken down.

No way I am changing the driver's side tire with two feet between me and 75 mph traffic flying by, so my new AAA membership gets the call. Nice guy arrives in 20 minutes, tows me into Encinitas to put the donut on. He recommends a Discount Tire shop in town, so I hobble over. It's 6:55 and the shop doesn't open until 8. So I look around for signs of civilization--there's gotta be some kinda deli around here. Across the lot beacons the perfect red neon sign at the perfect moment. And the sign says: French Pastry Cafe



I amble over to fnd an open door, 5 miutes before their scheduled 7 a m time, and I am greeted by a welcoming shop owner. Breakfast croissant omelet, and for sure: a good day for a coffee indulgence. Both are great, as is the inch-thick soft-baked cranberry cookie I follow up with. So I'm journaling away, with this cute cafe all to myself, over easily the best coffee in San Diego. And I start to think--maybe I really am being called to move up here to this part of the city. Like maybe the perfect woman for me lives here. I put a period on the sentence in the journal, and on cue the door opens.

The second customer of the day is a beautiful blond woman, who turns out to be French. She has two kids in tow, one of whom is in a pink dress with a tiara. There is no ring on the left hand. She sits at the next table over, and I am surprised that something actually comes to mind to say in real time. (Usually it's about an hour later.) So I ask her where her pink dress is. And she says it'll come out in two weeks when it's her own birthday. Which leads to other conversation, birthday wishes, and a sweet goodbye wave.

And then the cinematographer really steps up. As she exits the door, the lens shifts to a longer focus. And behind her another family has sat down and are divying up a cake. It's a father and his three kids. Sure looks a lot like Phil Mickelson, #2 pro golfer in the world the last decade. And as I'm thinking, nah, probably just one of those many lookalike moments. But the cafe owner asks about their summer travels, and the family has been all over the states and England, which is the pro golfing tour. And dude sounds just like Mickelson, and the kids are all blonde, and he's even wearing his trademark black cap. And it begins to dawn on me it's definitely the Mickelsons I'm sharing the cafe with.

Pretty cool, but what is coolest is that he is obviously the nice guy everyone says he is. He's doting on his daughters, offering educational insights, listening to them, and thoroughly enjoying being Dad. He's 40 now, and as I watch him downing his morning cake, I feel privy to just why he's never quite achieved the V-shape athletic form!

It's 8 a m, and I head back across the lot to bring the car in. It's gonna need four tires, and they can do it in half an hour, so cool. I start walking around the rest of the strip mall, and I realize I've actually been here in this center before. Rich took me out to a Souplantation lunch here a couple weeks back after a rehearsal. After walking past that establishment, the morning's coup de gras comes into view, Trader Joe's Encinitas store. So I go in and introduce myself. They say I can hang out in the break room if I want until the tires are fixed, but I pass on that, and take off--but not before mentioning I might be up for a transfer at some point!