Tuesday, April 7, 2009
During World War II I was contacted by Uncle Henry who told me that his nephew, Charles, was in San Diego. I was stationed nearby, having returned from service in North Africa. So Charles and I went out into the city. He was just out of boot camp but I had ribbons on my chest. We went into one of the big hotel dining rooms and waited to be seated. After a long wait it became obvious that they were not going to serve us. So we went down the street and ate a hamburger. To make matters worse, the burger was scorched. Several years later I was on a junket and we approached San Diego. The hotel that had snubbed me was on the list for a luncheon. I talked to the tour boss and told him my story. He was sympathetic and cancelled the luncheon at the hotel. We went down to the waterfront and ate seafood. I felt vindicated.