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Santa Catalina may be a-waitin', but it's no Tahiti!

By Dick Sparrer

Summer seemed to be slipping away, and my wife and I had been struggling to come up with a place we could agree on for a vacation. My idea of a perfect vacation spot is anywhere there's a Major League baseball stadium; Natalie's idea of a vacation spot is just about anywhere else!

So, with that in mind (and the threat of retaliation for any baseball-related excursion firmly drilled into my brain), I decided to take charge and handle the vacation scheduling myself this summer. As it turns out, I would have been much better off calling Travel Advisors of Los Gatos or Alpine Travel of Saratoga.

But, no, not me. I decided to go it alone. So when she took off to go camping for a long weekend with her kids and grandchildren, I stayed home and searched the Internet to find a vacation destination that would be fun and relaxing, yet economical. I found it, I booked it and when she got home I shared our plans with her.

"Well, I've come up with a perfect trip for us. How does an island vacation and a cruise sound for this summer?" I asked her.

She could barely hide her enthusiasm.

"That sounds great!" she squealed. "Is it to Maui? Kauai? The big island?"

"No," I said. "Hawaii is so cliché. We're going to try something new and exciting this year."

"Tahiti?" she exclaimed. "I could do Tahiti. Or Fuji. Or anything Caribbean or Mediterranean?"

"Yeah, they all sound OK," I said. "But I was thinking about something a little closer to home."

Her bright eyes turned dark.

"If you say Alcatraz, you're going to find out what solitary confinement is really like!"

"No, no," I said quickly. "And it's not Treasure Island, either."

Her features softened and she just gave me a puzzled look of interest.

"Then where?" she asked.

"I was thinking about Catalina Island," I said. "How does a vacation to Catalina Island sound?"

The dark stare returned and she went silent.

"You know, '26 miles across the sea ... Santa Catalina is a-waitin' for me ... Santa Catalina, the island of romance?' " I chirped in a little sing-songy tune, vaguely reminiscent of the 1957 song made famous by the Four Preps.

She heard me ... I knew she heard me. And I knew I wasn't singing that badly. But nothing came out of her mouth. Expressionless, she finally broke the silence.

"New and exciting, huh ... you mean cheap!"

"Now, I wouldn't exactly call 75 bucks a night cheap, would you?"

Judging by the lack of response, I guess she would.

Oh well, it was booked. So we took the cruise--the 26-mile ferry ride from Long Beach to Catalina (OK, it's really 22.3 miles, but how could the Four Preps have ever blended that into a song?). We checked into the Hotel Atwater, checked out the city of Avalon--the main city (make that, the only city) on the island--and we went to dinner. We didn't know it at the time, but we'd just about done it all. That fact would become uncomfortably obvious, however, since we had another day and a half before we could go home.

Who knew that the entire town of Avalon was made up of about 20 shops and a few restaurants and bars? Who knew that our three July days would be the hottest of the summer on the island? Who knew that for the princely sum of $75 a night, our hotel room would not include air conditioning? By the disgusted look on Natalie's sweaty face, she knew!

We couldn't wait for the ferry to arrive on our third day so we could "cruise" back to the mainland and spend a few days in Newport Beach.

"That's the last time we're going there," I said as we stepped off the ferry back in Long Beach.

"Yeah, and that's the last time you're planning a vacation!" Natalie snapped.

Island of romance? Right.