On the Rails in San Luis Obispo (ARCHIVE)

(This is some sort of diary entry I wrote after spending a few days with family friends in San Luis Obispo)

I arrived at the red-brick San Luis Obispo train station around 2:30. I was immediately spotted by JK, a twenty year old cowboy hoping to distance himself from his roots of old Californian money, and into a ranching and bronco-riding lifestyle. I met his pup, a black cattle dog named Mabel, sweet as could be, and we hopped in his Ram flatbed truck to begin my time in the Central Coast of California. Old town SLO, the neighborhood in which the station was located, reminded me quite a bit of some small colorado town i had stomped around in before, with the sole exception of the palm trees, of course. JK and I grabbed sandwiches at High Street Deli, a hip spot for the CalPoly kids, who were mostly away for the summer. When I went to the bathroom, I spotted a weed-themed shower curtain draped over the likely broken shower ahead of the toilet. It then hit me that the titling of the establishment was one hell of a double entendre indeed, that being the street and the state of, y’know, high. I devoured the Italian sub and hopped back into the truck. We drove around the CalPoly campus, where JK attended for an education in Agriculture Business. He told me about many frat incidents, including roofs being ripped off, cars being crushed, signs being stolen, and the rest of such classically undergraduate-oriented chaos. I passed out in his passenger seat, and he shouted me awake when we arrived at his place, a well-furnished single-wide trailer next to the CalPoly fairgrounds, of which he and his roommate took part in managing. Eventually, we left for SLO’s downtown, something that again, I felt like I had seen before. In this case, it reminded me of Grand Junction’s own downtown district. This made me wonder if the west only had a few kinds of districts in their towns, copied, altered, then pasted from one oasis of infrastructure to the next. After a lot of shooting the shit and walking around and buying records and an assertive green Adidas jacket to keep me warm for the next leg of my journey, we asked the wait at Giuseppe’s, the fancy Italian joint in town. Fifteen minutes. We grab Starbucks, and scroll, and stroll. I took a phone call from back home. JK texts me, the wait has ballooned in the last 20 minutes to an hour. We find JK’s parents, Ben and Robin, and sit down at a more American-styled spot, without a wait. The amount of appetizers we consumed was ridiculous, a recurring theme for this leg of my journey. After dinner, I say goodbye to JK and head to Ben’s home in Cambria, a massive beachfront spot with a gigantic kitchen, chock full of these natural, sunshine-mimicking overhead lights. I converse with them briefly before heading to bed. The next day, I headed into Cambria with Ben and grab a bagel and a mocha at Mojo’s Village Cafe. After settling in to the autistically charming vibe of the spot, I chat with a local guy named Noah. We discuss AI, film, and the like. He speaks about NFTs, while also wearing socks and Bored Ape Yacht Club slides. After buying a gift for a friend back home, I headed back to the beach house with Robin, and eventually went to Cayucos with the two of them to see their sixteen year old son, who also happened to be named Noah, and get some white clam chowder in a bread bowl, a food from somewhere that definitely isn’t California. The next day was spent on Ben’s avocado ranch, then moving into the exploration of SLO’s night market. There, I bought one beignet and received two, a small miracle for my spirits. I then relaxed back at the house, and ended up waking up early enough the next morning that I could walk the highway into downtown Cambria and grab coffee with some problematic old folks. They were a rough bunch, being cruel to any woman who stepped into the cafe, but it was a good experience for me at the barest of minimums. After that, I did some snack shopping, and got on my way towards the Bay Area.