Stop by The Loft on 5th Avenue on a Saturday afternoon, and you might find Andy Siekkinen in a cowboy hat and a red rodeo sash, carrying a platter of Jell-o shots. Don’t be fooled by his understated demeanor and quiet smile—Siekkinen is royalty. Gay rodeo royalty, that is.
Siekkinen grew up on a dairy farm in Ohio, but he had never ridden a horse until three years ago, when he learned about gay rodeo and started training to compete. Now, it is a central part of his life. And those red and green Jell-o shots he’s hawking have an important role to play—Siekkinen is raising funds to revive the San Diego Gay Rodeo, a once-raucous annual event that hasn’t taken place in 14 years.
Courtesy of Gay Rodeo History
San Diego’s first Gay Rodeo was held in 1989. It continued annually up until 2010, when low membership caused it to shutter. The rodeos are completely volunteer-run, so without actively recruiting members and training new leadership, “you don’t have enough critical mass to keep going,” Siekkinen explains.
But Siekkinen believes now is the perfect time for the event to return to our city. Mainstream culture has a renewed interest in the Western aesthetic: Cowboy boots are trending, Yellowstone is streaming, and pop stars have started releasing country songs. “Right now, we’re in an upswing,” Siekkinen says. “You can just feel it.”
Longtime San Diego resident Tim Lowry attended the first-ever San Diego Gay Rodeo. “It was in Lakeside, and we were all worried about getting beat up,” he recalls. But that didn’t stop him from attending. There was too much fun to be had. Thousands of people packed an event hall at the rodeo, line dancing. “I loved me some cowboys and a twirl across the floor,” Lowry says.
Courtesy of Golden State Gay Rodeo Association
What makes a gay rodeo different from a “straight rodeo?” Well, beyond the traditional roping and rough stock competitions, there are events you just won’t find anywhere else—like Steer Decorating, in which a pair of competitors must tie a ribbon to a steer’s tail, or Goat Dressing, in which contestants must wrestle a goat into a pair of tighty-whities and race back across the finish line before the underwear falls down. Then there’s the Wild Drag Race, where a participant has to jump on the back of a steer dressed in full drag. “It’s pure chaos,” Siekkinen says.
But it’s not all horseplay. Another integral aspect of the event is charity. America’s first gay rodeo, held in Reno in 1976, raised money for a Thanksgiving dinner at a home for the elderly, and subsequent rodeos have donated their profits to muscular dystrophy and HIV research, among other social needs.
“Our rodeos aren’t just for the LGBTQ community,” Siekkinen says. “I like to say they’re for anybody who’s not an asshole.” In May, one of the bull riders at the Las Vegas Gay Rodeo made his gay rodeo debut after only competing in traditional rodeos. He joined to get involved in the LGBTQ community and support his 13-year-old child who had come out as non-binary. He won the Sportsmanship Award by a landslide, Siekkinen remembers.
Siekkinen isn’t the only one striving to bring the gay rodeo back to town. Tessa Trujillo is working the crowd at The Loft, charming customers and delivering shots. Her voice carries across the patio, punctuated by an infectious laugh. “I’m a people person,” she says.
Courtesy of Palm Springs Hot Rodeo
Trujillo has spent all her life in San Diego. “My family has been in California since before there was a California,” she tells me. Her grandfather was a cattle farmer. Like Siekkinen, she found her way into the gay rodeo circuit in recent years. “I’ve been to straight rodeos,” she says. “But I never felt at home.”
When she attended a gay rodeo in Scottsdale, she became hooked. She was crowned Miss Palm Springs Hot Rodeo in 2022 and Miss Golden State Gay Rodeo in 2023. But she wanted her hometown to experience the same energy and community. “I got this urge,” she says. “I thought, ‘I’m gonna bring this back to San Diego.’”
Trujillo has stayed true to her word. She has thrown herself into planning, recruiting members, and fundraising––she orchestrates pool tournaments, raffles, barbecues. “It’s a lot of work, but I love it,” Trujillo says. “I’m good at it.”
Courtesy of International Gay Rodeo Association
This year, Trujillo became the first-ever Mx. Golden State Gay Rodeo, a new distinction that Siekkinen helped establish in an effort to make GSGRA more inclusive. The pre-existing royalty categories were Mr., Ms., Miss, and MsTer, the latter two awarded to drag queens and kings, respectively.
At the annual IGRA convention, Siekkinen proposed adding a Mx. title. He had noticed he wasn’t seeing a lot of non-binary and gender-nonconforming individuals in the rodeo community. “I want everybody to know they’re welcome,” he says. “We need to make sure we’re not stuck in the past. We have to evolve and change and bring younger people in.” The committee took a vote and it passed unanimously.
Trujillo and Siekkinen are hoping to revive the San Diego Gay Rodeo as soon as 2025. There are many steps to the process: graduating from a club to a chapter, becoming a 501(c)3, and raising a lot more money. But Siekkinen is optimistic. “Those early rodeos were wild,” he says. “That’s why so many people would come—because it was such an experience. To recapture that, we have to look to the future and make sure we are part of it.”
The floor is made of glass. Under your feet, you can see the cellar—15-foot ceilings, soft light, and stained white oak walls the color of desert silt.
Tucked behind the wood, inside the doors, and in the ceiling is a highly advanced and very specific network of tech assembled in San Marcos—perfectly calibrating the room for humidity and temperature with vapor barriers, specialized insulation, and LED lights. Along the walls on matte blag pegs lay 1,000-plus bottles of wine—some iconic collector vintages, some with stories, some earmarked for major life moments.
This is a very serious wine home, built by someone whose obsession eventually leads to a call with Chris Noel.
“We have some clients who have been collecting wine since the ’60s and the ’70s, and they have collections of 15,000 or 20,000 or more bottles,” says Noel, owner of Vintage Cellars, the San Marcos–based designer of custom wine vaults for some of the region’s top restaurants and super-collectors. “[For them], collecting wine is similar to Jay Leno collecting cars.”
Courtesy of Vintage Cellars
Before the wheel, there was wine. Fermenting fruit sugars into alcohol was a thing as early as 4100 B.C. (wheel, circa 3500 B.C.), most likely a happy accident. Unsurprisingly, the tipsy breakthrough in juice arts was a huge hit. The challenge was that it was also hugely perishable.
The first efforts to save it from spoil were clay vessels called amphora, often fully or partially buried to create a sun-proof, temperature-stable environment. The terra-cotta pots were pointy-bottomed, which stacked and traveled better, encouraged gas circulation (thus preventing oxidation, the famed wine ruiner), and helped separate sediments.
Once basic preservation was figured out, makers noticed the aging process ushered in a moodier magic. So they engineered structures to tinker with the possibilities of the long haul. Those first wine holes in the dirt evolved into entire catacombs, tombs, quarries, and caves.
Courtesy of Vintage Cellars
Ancient Romans engineered wine storage rooms called fumariums, built facing north to avoid the sun and filled with smoke to speed the aging process (no doubt rapidly aging the cellar workers in the process).
For centuries, specialized wine storage was mostly a commercial venture. Serious wine people would (and still do) outsource their collections to a bonded storage facility or turn to professional cellarers who run giant chilled warehouses of cabernets.
A few major social moments sparked a more serious at-home cellar trend. First, the “Judgment of Paris” in 1976 (California wines famously besting the French in a blind tasting) established US wineries as worthy of collections.
A few years later came the 1982 Bordeaux, one of the most-coveted vintages in history. It was championed by a US lawyer named Robert Parker, whose 100-point scale rating system would quickly become the gold-standard for grading wines, creating a huge boom of wine collectors for the next few decades (wine as an economic investment became a thing).
The US economy also boomed in the ’80s, while France hit a skid. With the dollar trading 6-1 against the franc, US collectors had a rare chance to pick up Grand Crus at serious bargains, which demanded equally serious storage.
Courtesy of Vintage Cellars
Given that framing, 1990 was a fairly great time for Vintage Cellars to get into the game. Noel—who worked his way up at the company and then eventually took over as owner in 2020—and his team work with architects, designers, and builders to create cellars that both fit the space and act as an attraction in multimillion-dollar homes across the region, and at top restaurants like Pamplemousse Grille in Del Mar and Avant Restaurant in Rancho Bernardo Inn. They hide cooling systems in brick-walled enclosures, bend bottle racks around curved walls, create standalone pavilions—engineer structures for cabs.
Their cellars hover between 50 to 70 percent humidity to keep the cork appropriately moist. Air too dry, and a cracked cork will give up the ghost—O2, in excess, turns wine into vinegar. If the air’s too dry, it can shrink the cork, eventually evaporating the wine and creating a low pressure that will pull in destruction. Too humid, and mold contaminates the works.
Light’s a big no-no for wine, too. Incandescent or halogen lights were the norm for cellars 20 years ago, but they emitted heat. Like Schrödinger’s Cat, these bulbs would risk the subject in order to view it. Vintage Cellars adopts LED lighting and, for glass cellars in the sightline of bright windows, mechanized shades that lower during UV exposure times.
Custom circumference-cut cove trays, leather saddles, and pegs stabilize bottles in Vintage Cellars storage areas; movement disturbs the tannins and upsets the aging process. And these cellars are smart, with app-based monitoring, remote temperature monitoring, and eSommelier cellar management. Don’t fret, Siri’s got your Syrah.
The most important decision, however, is deciding when to uncork that special bottle.
“[A lot of times, people] are saving those wines for specific moments in life—maybe a 50th anniversary or when their firstborn turns 21,” says Noel. “That’s how they look at it: as social and also to create memories.”
Pete Peterson has served as high as Editor-in-Chief of an enthusiast media magazine and as low as writer of his own bio… In addition to contributing to San Diego Magazine, Pete authored the YA novel One Tiger One Teen and is working on his second novel. Slightly more info is available at petepetersonauthor.com.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
Walking into a room full of strangers isn’t high on the fun index for most. It’s inherently awkward: Everyone’s standing in closed-loop clusters, deep in conversation, and, depending on your social aptitude, the feeling is somewhere between light apprehension and burning alive from the inside out. The pull to retreat or reflexively look busy on your phone is stronger than the drink you now deeply crave. Having friends is nice, but making friends can be brutal.
There’s plenty of commentary on the loneliness epidemic. Last year, the American Psychiatric Association reported that one in three adults feel lonely at least once a week; those aged 18 to 34 are more likely to feel isolated and even more likely to turn to social media as a result. Dr. Vivek Murthy’s “My Parting Prescription for America” cautioned that “being socially disconnected increases our risk of heart disease, dementia, depression, anxiety, and premature death.” So it’s not just an emotional need; it’s nearly nutritional—chit-chat and the occasional wine-fueled, emotional deep-dive are just as important as Pilates and a reasonable amount of kale.
Finding social connections in any city is hard, but San Diego has very specific challenges. This is largely a transient population that acts as a temporary hotspot for many and a permanent home for few. Pick your reason: high rent, surreal gas prices, housing shortage, meh job opportunities (ranked 71st in the country in 2025), or the fact that active military is a sizable chunk of us (110,000-ish)—stationed here for a stretch, then gone. This constant flow of departees sucks out the potential for deeply established families and friend groups, leaving a good share of nomads, searchers, and plenty of people feeling socially awkward.
“There’s an underlying loneliness in all of us,” says Ramel Wallace, the host of monthly meetup CreativeMornings. “There are not a lot of San Diegans who are born and raised here, so [even those] San Diegans end up being just as lonely as the person who just got here.”
Photo Credit: Blair Kirby
Every month, in local libraries, breweries, and small businesses, there are ambitious social architects who have made a career out of undoing social sads. Extroverted champions of the awkward and searching, they’ve struck gold on in-person connection.
The first moments in a social situation are crucial. Sets the tone and cools the nerves.
At Pitch-A-Friend, singles recruit their close friends to present a slideshow of their dating green flags. The entry points for connection at Pitch-A-Friend are simple, old tech: stickers. Each colored sticker indicates if the wearer is single or taken, queer or straight, or practicing ethical non-monogamy (in a partnership but open to others under a mutual understanding).
At the helm of each showcase is Arielle Fuller, aka Chief Wingwoman, who is making dating hopeful again. As Fuller explains, this takes some of the fear of rejection out of a first interaction. “Putting a sticker on immediately means, ‘I wanted to leave my house and talk to someone, and I am a safe space to come and speak to me,’” she says.
Of course, not all of San Diego’s events designed to make connections are romantic. On the last Friday of every month, hundreds gather at San Diego Central Library for the local chapter of CreativeMornings—an org formed to unite creatives in various cities across the world (designers, artists, writers, producers, performers, architects, etc.).
Photo Credit: Gina Ribando
These aren’t your standard business card swaps, though. Coming from a hip-hop background, host Wallace uses call-and-response to break the fourth wall. “This is not my stage at all, this is our stage,” he says.
In your standard lecture-based meetup, the crowd silently faces the host and acknowledges nobody except those they came with. At CreativeMornings, everyone is encouraged to look around, pay attention to the strangers in the audience—not just the host. Wallace will pull volunteers to read the CM manifesto aloud, and he passes the mic to creatives, who make 30-second pitches to the community about projects they’re working on—and there’s always an invitation to connect and collaborate with the presenters whose ideas struck a chord.
The U.S. Chamber of Connection (yes it exists) says people experience life transitions nearly every year, and in these stretches are more open to forming new habits, relationships, and communities. In a revolving-door city like ours, the transition often comes when someone moves away. In 2023, the Census Bureau reported San Diego had the ninth-highest rates of domestic out-migration in the US.
This poses an issue for friendships that IRL SD addresses in monthly friend-making events called 619 Night.
“San Diego isn’t a place a lot of people stay forever,” says Alex Hunter, the creator of IRL SD. “They leave, and people [who stay] lose that community, so they’re hungry for community again.”
Their website describes the vibe as “backyard party meets college fair meets networking event meets happy hour.” Each follows a theme—wellness, sports, refresh and reset, etc.—with related community groups joining as well.
“The people I encounter are trying to get a fresh start in some capacity, so they’re more open, receptive, and ready to meet new friends,” Hunter says. “They need the circle.”
Photo Credit: Elysian Visions by Deaune Boyd LLC
Another way adults can break out of this disconnection is to revert in unison, says artist Elisa Summiel-Bey. The 2015-ish adult coloring book moment in the US was based on some real science, with multiple studies finding coloring has a noticeable meditative and stress-release effect by taking the brain away from anxieties and mental inventories, and focusing it on a simple, easy art. Summiel-Bey’s company Illustrated Melanin throws “Color & Chill” events, turning that trend into a group exercise, along with live DJ sets, wellness experts doing sound baths, and food and drink from BIPOC-owned local businesses. “I tend to think of coloring as your way to tap back into your childlike play,” she says. “As adults, I think we’re almost scared to let loose and have that unabashed joy.”
All of these social meetups attract crowds of likeminded connection-seekers, but high attendance is not the only thing that matters. Metrics nuts can track RSVPs, but spreadsheets can’t capture intangible wins: friendships made, innovative ideas sparked, collaborations kicked off. At CreativeMornings, Wallace redefines ROI as Return On Imagination. Resounding success means thoughtful inquiries over coffee, curiosity about the monthly meeting themes, and requests to take the microphone.
A simple, observable ROI is an increased number of window shoppers to the experience—on the periphery, watching from afar, looking for the right way in. Hunter from IRL SD sees the anxiety in her DMs. “The scariest part for you right now is not meeting new friends: It’s the unknown,” she says. “It’s the gap between ‘I’m here’ and ‘That’s where I need to be.’ If I can help you understand, or get a little bit of a shape around that unknown, it’s much more approachable.”
Courtesy of IRL SD
Being able to bridge that gap, however, depends on your ability to step out of your own mind. “It’s not a connection crisis; it’s a courage and confidence crisis,” says Fuller. The first hello could be as easy as, “Hey, cool shirt.” These are the types of things she includes in her confidence lab reels on Instagram and weekly newsletters.
Ever left a social event and shot straight into a spiral? Was I being weird? Why did I tell that story? I hope that person moves to another state very soon.
The experts say that post-event self-interrogation is a standard-issue part of being alive.
“I love awkward people, and I love being awkward myself,” says Wallace. “It’s humbling to experience: ‘I’m not alone. Finally someone is not put together.’ So give yourself that grace.”
Jeannine Boisse (she/her) is a freelance writer and professional creative with a background in Radio & Television. Based in sunny San Diego, Jeannine spends her time exploring the city's vibrant brewery scene, cooking up new recipes in the kitchen, and connecting with new people.
I peel myself off my couch, crack my back, and force myself to the bar (23 years old, by the way). It’s a Friday night, and my smart watch is already informing me my body battery is critically low.
Nevertheless, party we must.
Because, to be fair, one of the best things about going out—dive bar, velvet-clad cocktail lounge, or anywhere in between—is the performance of it all. Watching a bartender shake and stir like it’s choreography, finishing the drink with a sprig or petal placed just so, feeling like your collection of mixers and spirits is worth pouring into the Holy Grail.
One of the worst things about going out, though? Being out.
So I thank God for the home bar.
No lines, no cover, no shouting your order over someone named Kyle who just discovered the AMF. No $19 cocktails that taste suspiciously like juice. Just me, my apartment (where I can play whatever music I want), and the quiet confidence of knowing I can make something decent without putting on real pants.
A home bar, I’ve learned, doesn’t have to be impressive. It just has to be intentional—a few bottles you actually like, some tried-and-true tools, and at least one drink you can make without Googling. That’s it. That’s the barrier to entry.
To create the ultimate home bar collection, we tapped the folks at San Diego cocktail supply shop Collins & Coupe to give us some of their recommendations. Pick and choose what you need, and start cocktailing.
Courtesy of Collins & Coupe
The Must-Haves
Shaker Tin
You won’t get very far in your cocktail-making-journey without shaker tins. Boston shakers (two pieces, tin-on-tin) and cobbler shakers (three pieces with a strainer and cap) are the most classic styles, but if you want to avoid the tins getting stuck (or creating a mess on the floor), Boston shakers are the way to go.
“Koriko Tins by Cocktail Kingdom are the gold standard for every bar worth their salt. Every new bar we help outfit with tools insists on this brand and model,” says Collins & Coupe co-owner Gary McIntire.
“These are handmade, 100 percent solid copper and will last a lifetime,” McIntire says. “Because they are solid, there is no plated finish to wear off, and they will only look more beautiful with age.”
Bar Spoon
According to the pros, don’t even bother getting bar spoons shorter than 12 inches. One foot long is the magic length to get the best stirring results: “Rule of thumb is at least 50 percent of the spoon should be out of the glass,” says McIntire.
Pulp in your orange juice? We’ll allow it. But in your cocktail? Smooth and strained is optimal. You have two choices here: Hawthorne strainers have a spring that attaches snugly to shaking tins; julep strainers have no tabs or springs (originally created to drink mint juleps before straws became commercially available).
We’ve all seen those seasoned bartenders with the arm tats and haughty demeanors who can assemble perfect drinks with their eyes shut. The rest of us, however, need training wheels. Jiggers—those hourglass-shaped measuring tools—make consistent cocktail-making easy, although cheap versions tend to be inaccurate. Don’t skimp out on these.
“Heavy-duty and made of one piece,” McIntire says. “We use [this jigger] in our classes and at home. It comes in a bell-shaped version and a Japanese version, which is tall and narrow.”
“Glassware is always essential to the cocktail experience,” says McIntire. The martini glass is an avatar for American hair-loosening for a reason: sleek, viciously “V,” and highly spillable (danger always looks good). To start, look for a coupe glass (the fancy cat bowl-looking thing), a highball (glassware with posture), and a rocks glass (the blue collar hero).
You know how Caesar dressing tastes way better when you don’t think about the fact that there are anchovies in it? The same goes for cocktails and raw egg whites. Some of your favorites rely on the frothy ingredient to shine (whiskey sours, gin fizzes, etc.). Mesh strainers help make that magic happen. According to McIntire, always get the conical version; the round, bowl style could cause spills.
Lili Kim is a content coordinator and writer for San Diego Magazine, with experience highlighting local businesses and communities. When not writing or shooting film, she is likely brewing her seventh cup of tea of the day or strolling along Sunset Cliffs.
Kelly H. Harfouche, founder of KQ Aesthetic Society, knows firsthand that cosmetic treatments like fillers, neurotoxins, and microneedling, can not only enhance a person’s appearance and restore confidence, they have the power to truly change a person’s life. An expert injector has the ability to tailor treatments to each individual patient’s anatomy and goals for personalized results. Harfouche, a board-certified nurse practitioner, has spent nearly a decade perfecting her craft as an aesthetic injector and integrating her multifaceted artistic skills with precision patient care. Her commitment to continual education and training, plus a passion for helping people look—and feel—their best, set KQ Aesthetic Society apart in a sea of local medspas.
For many people considering nonsurgical treatments, the intent is to look refreshed and refined. KQ Aesthetic Society’s philosophy eschews a cookie cutter approach that bases treatments around units, instead working to understand each person’s unique goals, then curating a treatment plan to fit that vision. Harfouche focuses on “inclusive luxury,” the belief that everyone deserves access to aesthetic treatments, respective of budget restrictions. She develops long-standing trusted relationships with her patients, and works with each one to achieve their aesthetic objectives and address the underlying causes of their concerns.
“For me, forming an honest and open relationship with every patient who walks through the door is essential. This means understanding them on a deeper level and meeting them where they are to define and achieve their individual goals,” she says.
Drawing on her artistic background, which inspired her transition into medical aesthetics, Harfouche sees each client as a “unique canvas.” Rather than relying on standardized procedures, the practitioner’s distinctive approach combines her profound understanding of the physiological and anatomical changes associated with aging with an unwavering commitment to ongoing education about the newest products and their mechanisms of action. Her goal is to make each patient feel beautiful in their own skin and to embrace their individuality.
She has also pioneered a way to combine her talent for aesthetic artistry with her philanthropic nature. Harfouche is one of only a handful of providers using dermal fillers to treat patients with lip asymmetry and scarring resulting from cleft lip surgery. Patients travel from around the country for this transformative treatment, noting increased confidence and a restored identity. She hopes to eventually launch a training program to help fill the void in this space.
“My passion has always been connecting with people and giving back in any capacity that I can,” she says. In the rapidly advancing landscape of aesthetic medicine, you can place your confidence in Harfouche and KQ Aesthetic Society to deliver exceptional care. To learn more or book a consultation, please visit kqaestheticsociety.com.
As summertime inches closer to the shores of San Diego, there are plenty of reasons to be ecstatic. For one thing, there’s the impending arrival of the summer solstice (Sunday), and three days before that, Del Mar’s own Summer Solstice will return for its yearly golden hour. There are also plenty of local Juneteenth events, such as Kinfolk Fest, the Cooper Family Foundation’s Juneteenth Celebration, and The Freedom Table, a new, food-centered event from the originators of Juneteenth San Marcos. We’re also less than three weeks away from America’s 250th anniversary, and the celebrations range from the San Diego History Center’s America 250: San Diego 1776-2026 to NASCAR’s weekend of racing at Naval Base Coronado.
Cbar has planned a week’s worth of festivities to mark its first birthday, and everyone can get in on the fun. The 1-Year Anniversary Week celebrations continue with a special edition of the Sips & Shells craft series ($50) on Tuesday from 6-8:30 p.m., half-off pastries with any purchase of a barista drink (plus an anniversary summer wine flight) on Wednesday and a five-course winemaker dinner on Thursday from 6-9 p.m. ($130). Finally, the birthday bash will conclude with live music on Friday (Will Fedak) and Saturday (Cappo Kelley) from 6-9 p.m.
2917 State Street, Carlsbad
Taste of Little Italy
June 16 & 17
Little Italy’s annual food crawl has so many options that it warrants splitting into two evenings, each boasting a diverse lineup of 20 neighborhood vendors. During the Taste of Little Italy, taking place Tuesday and Wednesday from 4-8 p.m., attendees can make their way from the Piazza della Famiglia to nearby dining destinations for bites like esquites, sausage rolls, hot chicken tenders, and forkfuls of handmade pasta. Each night will also include live music and stops for drinks, desserts, and vegetarian items. Tickets are $71 per day.
As spring makes its golden transition into summer, welcome the new season with open arms and a big appetite during Del Mar Village’s marquee tasting event this Thursday from 5-8 p.m. With the Summer Solstice celebrating its 20th anniversary, this year’s iteration will include dozens of food and drink offerings from Del Mar Village vendors, soulful tunes from Christian Jules Taylor, live art by Sarah O’Connor, and wave-crashing views at Powerhouse Park. General admission (21+) is $157 and comes with unlimited tastings as well as a commemorative tasting glass, while VIP tickets are sold out; proceeds support the Del Mar Village Association.
1658 Coast Boulevard, Del Mar
The Freedom Table at TERI Campus of Life
June 19
After hosting the first-ever Juneteenth San Marcos festival in 2025, Lionel and Natalie Saulsberry have upped the ante with The Freedom Table, an elevated observance of community, culture, and the culinary arts. This Friday from 4-9 p.m. at TERI Campus of Life, guests can enjoy storytelling, art installations, live music, curated cocktails, and a chef-led dining experience, all in recognition of Juneteenth’s lasting importance. Ticket options include general admission ($261), plus two charitable ticket options: supporter ($313) and impact ($417), with a portion of sales going towards the youth nonprofit Achievement in Motion.
555 Deer Springs Road, San Marcos
Talladega Nights Father’s Day Brunch at ARLO
June 21
In honor of NASCAR’s Coronado debut and Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, ARLO is throwing a Father’s Day brunch for the dads who want to go fast. This Sunday from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., patrons can order from ARLO’s regular brunch menu, as well as a trio of holiday specials: the Dad’s Day Steak and Fries ($64), the Fit For a King Muffuletta Sandwich ($29), and the Big Daddy Brookie ($14). This shake and bake-approved meal will also include a DJ, cigar rollings, whiskey tastings and a Ricky Bobby costume contest. Reservations can be made online.
Ryan Hardison is a freelance arts and entertainment writer and recent graduate of San Diego State. When he's not staring at his laptop, he's likely eating an adobada burrito or getting sunburnt at the beach.
My 15-year-old daughter tried to steal our car this week, so I’m ready to become a NASCAR dad. It would be appropriate discipline. We just relocated to a nice suburb within walking distance of her high school. The suburbs are like living in a Tesla commercial. I am pretty far from the wealthiest dad in this neighborhood (I am the least wealthy dad in this neighborhood), more than a few engineering degrees short of being in the running.
I’m fairly certain watching NASCAR is a violation of our HOA and a violation of my daughter’s emotional HOA. But NASCAR hits San Diego this weekend and I have a fever I’ve never felt before. I want to watch 111 drivers do dangerous things in cars and trucks on an active military base in the ocean. Since my lifelong exposure to NASCAR is limited to Talladega Nights and every single iteration of the movie Cars, I can only base my plan of attack on oafish stereotypes.
So while other neighbor dads are sizing bubble jackets for their golf simulators, I’m gonna grow a Ricky Bobby, run the extension cord for the TV out into the carport we share with six other condos, fill a cooler with a proper 80-20 split of Hamm’s and Mountain Dew, treat a lawn chair like an ADU, and spend a few hours yelling ohsheeeit as if it’s a single, nine-syllable word.
The quality parents in our neighborhood seem highly attuned to the sound of any vehicle breaching the 6 MPH threshold, so I should gather a crowd pretty fast. They may come over with strongly worded emails in their hearts, but one glimpse of Shane van Gisbergen and hometown hero Jimmy Johnson guzzling the last remaining drops of gasoline on the planet in a dazzling display of carmanship—they’ll join my NASCAR pop-up party.
By the time my daughter brings her friends over, we’ll have a real welcoming committee.
Because, like I said, my daughter tried to steal my car.
She wasn’t going to Mexico. But while Claire and I were off doing businessy stuff to afford my teen’s skincare rituals, she and a friend decided to teach themselves stick shift. She’s never driven a stick before. I’m not saying she has, but if she has driven a vehicle at all—it would have been done in a remote, abandoned parking lot where the only possible thing she could destroy was the concept of driving itself.
But a couple TikTok videos later, she and her friend felt a certain level of mastery had been achieved, and they gave it a go. They backed our VW Bug out of the garage with a series of stalls and transmission seizures, and managed to get it into the carport, attempting to do “donuts.” That’s when I got a call from a resident, who had taken an active interest in this experiment.
Which got me wondering about the power and might of vehicles. Turns out, even at carport speeds there exists a bit of potential fireworks. A garage door could become not a garage door anymore. At 145 MPH on Naval Base Coronado this weekend (don’t worry, they slow down to 100 MPH for turns), NASCAR drivers are essentially doorbell ditching gods. I didn’t register the temperature after my daughter’s trial run, but the track at NASCAR races usually hits a cool 130-150 degrees, enough to lightly sear some Nikes (the tires themselves hover in the 200 degree range).
And that is at least part of our fascination with NASCAR (the other fascination is the legendary pit parties, which either set humanity back a few evolutionary links, or advance it by the same amount of links). These drivers do something all of us do every day in a very efficient, boring way—drive a car—and take it to its extreme impulse. Grace and precision at the thunderous edge of shit going terribly wrong. Most of us have looked at San Diego home prices and felt a burning desire to see how fast our Honda Pilot could make it to our new home in Vegas. So NASCAR drivers are acting on our own wildest impulse.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
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