Isle Be Home for Christmas
By Michael P. Thomas
If I was looking for a big, square-shouldered American meathead, I’da stayed in America. I live in San Diego, for Heaven’s sake—it’s like the square-shouldered American meathead outlet mall. Any size you want, from Extra Small to Big ‘n’ Tall, available in custom colors: brown-on-brown, red and white, even blue and green, if ink’s your thing.
Mind you, they’re not all quite as grin-happy as the guy wedged behind the little pink wooden table back in the corner of the bar. Not quite as chest-heavy. They certainly don’t all have that dimple in their right cheek that you could do tequila shots out of. He’s sipping a local beer—a Loro Loco, like me—and waiting for his ceviche, which I only know because I was eavesdropping, which I was only doin
