Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Everybody needs a home away from home. For some, it’s an actual home away from home, filled with knick-knacks and boating equipment. For others, it’s a destination oft visited. A place of comfort. A “happy place,” if you will. My home away from home is relatively new to me. In fact, I’ve only been there twice. But those two visits enriched my tiny black soul enough to snatch the top spot away from the Troubadour in West Hollywood.
The place is a little beach community called Avila. Located on the central coast, Avila Beach is special to me for a lot of reasons, not the least of which for being the current residence of my best friend, Stephanie.
It is also the land of storytelling. Being such a small place, the residents of Avila Beach all come with a tale or two:
“That guy could kill you! He was in Special Forces!”
“Oh, she’s slept with the entire town…”
“He’s the guy who used to own this place, but now he owns the other place. Also, he’s the brother of that other guy you just met, and he’s slept with that girl over there.”
I paraphrase, of course, to protect the identities of the poor residents of Avila. No one needs to know exactly who drinks too much, or who sleeps around too much, or who is a complete jerk to everyone. The point is that it is a city rich with flavor. And I feel very welcome there. Hell, maybe someday I’ll be the subject of an Avila story or two.