Part Two of the Trolley Tour: How my fear of technology almost cost me the BEST DESSERT IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!

Denied gelato-eating bragging rights at the Hotel Coronado, I admit to sulking a bit until we hit the beach. Let me amend that. The gold-flecked beach sprinkled with sand dollars. It was completely magical. After being chased out of the Pacific by heart-stoppingly cold water and a vicious ghost sand crab, I began collecting sand dollars in earnest. Seventeen 4th graders equals seventeen sand dollars (plus one for me!). Savannah sighed. "You know how to tell if they're alive, don't you?" I froze (Actually...I hadn't yet de-thawed from dipping my tootsies in the icy Pacific...the Atlantic has now been cemented as my favorite ocean pending my introduction to the Indian Ocean...I have theological issues with the fabled Southern Ocean...how does one demote a planet and arbitrarily assign an ocean? It's all a money-making scheme of those calculating cartographers.). A Google-search revealed that half my inventory fell into the catch and release category. "If you still want to eat lunch in Little Italy then we should go," Savannah said. Turns out that empty stomach trumps generous spirit so, gripping my one precious sand dollar (confirmed dead according to Google), we boarded the trolley to continue our tour.

After my bawdy burrito encounter, Savannah directed us towards a more familiar food choice:  Pizza. Couldn't go wrong there! We sat at sidewalk-side tables and I eagerly lifted the bacon and pineapple slice to my mouth. Wait a second. That's not pineapple. "Is this potato?" I asked Savannah who, despite her seamless San Diego acclimation, also appeared a bit surprised. "Do I like this?" I asked, a cosmic question directed to the universe. My taste-buds were still trying to recover from the shock of expecting the tropical delight of pineapple and instead receiving the earthy texture of sod-grown pomme de terre (I thought the French translation made the potato seem more whimsical). I took another tentative bite. I didn't hate it. The bacon acted as an excellent mediator...like a friend accompanying you on a blind-date. The experience began as a wrinkle-your-nose, I'm-not-willing-to-commit-to-THAT before evolving into a non-committal shrug willing to put up with boring conversation before finally deciding that you could see yourself willing to go all the way. Once. Normally, I'm not that kind of a girl but sometimes you have to let yourself live a little.

We headed down the street to a dessert shop with a window filled with beautiful meringues, each colorful creation the size of my fist.  My comfort-zone took a hit when I realized that orders were taken at ipad stations. Intimidated, I was willing to move on but Savannah confidently poked at the pad. She custom-ordered an amazing gelato concoction. When I picked it up, I used my human interaction to ask about ordering a meringue. The dessert architect was French and explained that the fist-sized meringues were designed to be filled with gelato and directed me to quarter-sized meringues packaged in gift-boxes. But the heart wants what the heart wants. Despondent, I turned away but Savannah would not be daunted. We returned to the ipad. Order meticulously placed, I then turned to watch my dessert artist go to work. It was like watching the Mona Lisa being painted.

I met her at the end of the counter as she took my dessert behind a mysterious chrome contraption. She pulled on special gloves. I glanced nervously at Savannah but my daughter was too busy shoveling gelato in her mouth to notice me. Suddenly, my dessert was there...cloaked by a magical mist erupting from the bottom container. I gasped. I clapped. "How?!?" But my dessert artisan gently refused to reveal the secrets behind my magical meringue. But who am I to question the French woman behind the curtain? I made it to the Emerald City and received my gift from the wizard. "You know it's just dry ice, don't ya?" Savannah asked. "Shut up, Savannah," I hissed, "I prefer my dessert shrouded in secrecy."


We sat on a bus bench, having arrived at the peak of happiness. I fed Syd like a baby bird, cracking the meringue, diving for the fruit sauce at the bottom of the bowl, squeezing the bulbous syrup straw over the creamy gelato. Our trolley pulled up but we didn't budge. "Are you getting on?" our driver called and I waved at my dessert as an obvious answer. "What is that?" she asked so stood I on the bottom step to show her. Before I knew it, I had disappeared into the depths of the trolley. "Where's Mom?" Savannah wondered, finally coming up for air as she reached the end of her gelato. Sydney pointed to the trolley. "I believe that she is currently orchestrating a power-point demonstration of her dessert," Sydney explained, "She just started the question-and-answer part of her presentation." I triumphantly exited the bus and we waved at the departing passengers. After I finished my life-altering dessert, we waited for the next trolley and realized that we'd, figuratively, reached the end of the road. How could it get ANY better than this? I wasn't wearing ruby shoes, but I clicked my heels anyway as I leaned forward on the bench. It was time to go home.