Long before I ever summered in the Pines, I fantasized about another community where attractive, tanned men like Rock Hudson, Tab Hunter and Sal Mineo would be as plentiful as the sun and sand: Laguna Beach.
Trouble was before the internet, I never knew exactly where to go, though god knows I searched in both '77 and '79, when California still exerted a strong pull on my psyche. But Google solved that problem this time, at least partially. We parked on the Pacific Coast Highway @ West Street and descended a steep concrete staircase, just as the fog was about to roll off the ocean. Look for Thom midway down.
Right or left at the bottom for homos? We couldn't tell. The gorgeous but mostly empty beach offered no initial clues. Not that it really mattered when you're enjoying natural beauty like this.
Only after we'd spread my checkerboard sheet slightly to the left and I'd taken a walk after a quick dunk in the frigid water did I spot a telltale landmark: the rainbow-wrapped lifeguard station practically screamed "gather here." By then, Thom had fallen asleep so we stayed put and I napped too. When we awoke, we found ourselves miscast in a reboot of Beach Blanket Bingo. No shit! We literally were surrounded by dozens of hunky and nubile California teens tossing footballs and chatting about college plans. I didn't take any pictures because I didn't want to lift our cloak of invisibility and turn into a dirty old man, although I can tell you I felt like one. Somehow, we completely missed a scene that has its own Instagram page! Sigh.
Instead, we headed to The Deck for an oceanfront meal, quickly making the transition from DOM to alcohol-free ladies who lunch quite deliciously. Extraordinary shrimp tacos were buried under these sprouts.
I devoured my crab louie, too, while Thom struggled to finish his enormous Cobb salad. Meanwhile, some solo asshole at a better table did nothing but complain about the service after ordering a bottle of wine and a seafood tower, as if this somehow entitled him to special treatment. His behavior probably wouldn't have stood out so much in New York, but it was certainly at odds with the mellow vibe we'd been experiencing all day long.
It's hard to capture the charm of Laguna's hilly residential neighborhoods, most of which have expansive views of the Pacific.
Apparently the town has yielded its once gay vibe to surfing Republicans.
Dogs, however, remain EXTREMELY welcome and pampered.
The lucky pooches even have an art gallery.
Our West Coast getaway ended just as it had begun almost two weeks earlier for Thom: under glorious blue skies.
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