San Diego

He has to drag himself out of bed at 3:30 am every morning to get to the Navy base on Coronado Island—right around the same time I’m power-walking along the beach at 6 am, pretending it’s for exercise and not just an excuse to procrastinate before my company’s week-long meeting. The sun is just waking up too, lazily stretching over the horizon, while the sea looks all misty and poetic, like it’s posing for an early morning photoshoot. It pulls back from the beach, glistening and inviting… until you spot the helpful little signs that say: “Don’t swim unless you want to marinate in Tijuana’s finest bacteria.” Apparently, the nearby city generously donates its wastewater to the Pacific, and if the current decides to head our way—no swimming for you.

Now, about my Uber driver. After his 4-to-4 Navy shift, he hops into his Tesla and drives until 7 pm. “I love driving,” he says, “so it’s no problem.” The man is from Vietnam and came to the U.S. with his parents in the early 2000s. After a short stay somewhere up north (too cold) and a few years in Texas (too hot), he landed on San Diego—just right. He joined the Navy and now gets to enjoy endless 80-degree days with clouds that politely burn off once the sun decides to show up.

I tell him I’ve been to Vietnam—Hanoi and Ha Long Bay, where we did a dreamy 3-day cruise. Towering limestone cliffs rising from emerald waters, fishing boats bobbing in the mist—it was magical. He hasn’t been back in 30 years. Most of his family is still there, but it’s complicated, he says. Easier to stay here.

He’s currently on shore duty, which rotates every few years with ship duty. Sounds exciting until you realize “exotic ports” mostly mean long stretches in tiny metal rooms floating at sea. I tell him I’m a vet. “I’m a cook!” he replies. We talk about feeding large crowds and he says what you get to eat kind of depends on who you are. “Did you see the seals working out on the beach?” he asks. “Nope,” I say, “only a lady telling me to avoid the bird-protected zone.” He chuckles and tells me seals have very specific diets and eat as much as they want. “Just like working dogs,” I say. “Special jobs, special meals.” He laughs, hits a button, and the Tesla door glides open like a spaceship.

And just like that, I float back to reality.

Addendum: I am saddened by the boat accident today at Ha Long Bay and think of the lives lost there