Hillcrest, San Diego
After The Irish Shop, there’s the Cape Cod Clutter book shop, run by a reed of a sweet old lady who always has a Merit pinned to her lip, very Bette Davisly.
There’s also Nunu’s right there, which to their credit was one of the last bars in San Diego to cave into the no-smoking-anywhere laws. Nunu’s is also where I met John Goodman one summer when he was in town playing Falstaff at the Old Globe in the park. Not that he would remember me, but I was introduced to him, and seemed just like he looks on TV or in the movies: like someone you’d like to have a beer with. When I ran into him, he was one-and-one with a Budweiser and shot of tequila. My sometime irascible friend Brains swears that he saw Goodman in there and sent the big man over a shot of, I think, Jagermeister. According to Brains, whose interpretation of events greatly distorts in proportion to the amount of booze he’s filled himself with, Goodman did not even acknowledge the gesture, and Brains stormed furiously out of Nunu’s. To this day, he sneers when Goodman’s name comes up. By the way, Goodman is a very