Last month I hit the big 3-0.
So long twenties, hello thirties.
I celebrated with dinner at Caffe Lucio, a funny Italian joint on Ocean Street in Santa Cruz. I’d heard it was quite the place. The owner looks like Einstein and embraces the resemblance with aplomb, even going so far as to name several of his cocktails in Einsteinian fashion, i.e. the E=MC 2. Not only that, but Lucio likes to rock the dance music and get the disco lights going. The enthusiastic restauranteur soon brought out silly masks — a unicorn, a rooster and Hilary Clinton – for my guests to wear, and he was cutting a rug on the dance floor most of the night. It was pretty much everything I could have hoped for on my 30th birthday, a night on which I’d declared my intention to have as David Lynchian experience as possible.
My original plan for a “bathrobes and ballgowns birthday bowling bash” went kaput thanks to someone else booking the entire bowling alley up for the night of my birthday. Slightly defeated, I saw the sign on Caffe Lucio advertising “gluten-free pizza and pasta available” and decided to give it a shot. I’m definitely glad I did. I plan to go back!