The job candidate I was interviewing in the Southern California desert town of San Bernardino said he wanted to be a writer in part to tell the stories of the local people because "San Bernardino really is a great place."
In almost the next breath he mentioned he had been mugged twice in his life.
When asked about any local issues out-of-towners like us might not know about but which are important, he told the story of how he and a friend were carjacked and it took police 2 ½ hours to show up, even though when they called the dispatcher said they were on the way.
Though I tried to book a hotel in the heart of the seat of the largest county by land mass in the nation, I was dismayed to find not a single decent-looking hotel anywhere near downtown – but I noticed a convention center listed on a map. Thinking maybe I just missed the hotel, I looked up the convention center and found it and the hotel had closed years before.
My research indicated the convention center is owned by a company in Bahrain, and though there have supposedly been attempts to reopen, both remain closed.
I asked an Uber driver about the convention center, who chuckled and said, "There's a convention center in San Bernardino?" I explained where it was and he said, "Oh yeah," and then opined that the city seemed to have given up on the notion of re-opening it since the hotels built in the last decade near the interstate on the edge of the city now host any events that the convention center would have in the past.
I had booked a room at what was supposedly the highest-rated hotel in the city, in large part because it was less than a quarter mile away from multiple restaurants and bars. I like options, and being able to walk to and from my destination.
After a day of traveling followed by a quick trip to the California "Alps" in the nearby San Bernardino mountains, including stops in the towns of Crestline and the Swiss chalet-themed Lake Arrowhead Village, I made my way back to the valley floor.
Back in my hotel room, I checked the walking route to a nearby bar and restaurant. Though Google Maps indicated the bar was a mere two-tenths of a mile away, the walking directions gave a circuitous route taking 15 minutes and covering 3/4 of a mile.
I asked the very friendly clerks at the hotel if that really was the quickest way to walk to the hotel.
"To walk? Um, yeah, but why are you walking?" the puzzled young clerk asked.
Ah Southern California, smoggy heart of car-driving culture, I can't say that I've missed you.
"Because I'm going to be drinking, and I'm trying to be responsible," I replied with a smile.
"Well, there is a more direct route, but you have to climb a 10-foot wall," another clerk replied with a laugh.
I thanked them and walked away, first across the large parking lot my hotel shares with the one next door, then through a seemingly unending Costco lot, then down the sidewalk of a broad street with ten lanes for cars, then to the right down another street and through parking lots of a mall until I arrived at my destination.
