Moments and places in time are inextricable from another as we chase through this life we lead. Every period or era of my life I relate to a particular establishment; some eras have many places but there is always that one spot that is my hub. My dwindling years at Bowling Green I relate to Brathaus, my time in Boston is seared into my memory mostly from Harvard Square and Palm Springs, well, Village Pub was the straw that stirred the drink for that phase of my life. But perhaps no single one place has held a deeper meaning to me than Baja Cantina on Washington in Venice.

My first few months in Los Angeles, as I’ve related previous, was awful. No job followed by bad job, tough break-up, broke, didn’t know anybody and barely kept my head above water. But on back to back days in August of 2001, I entered Baja Cantina. Didn’t really know much of the spot but I have a nose for solid hangs and my nose directed me properly this time. The first two bartenders I met in Los Angeles were Pete Kasper and David Asman. They both worked the day shifts on these days and luckily, I entered and made life long friends with these two guys. Both actors (and me an aspiring writer), we hit it off immediately. Actually, I’d attended an Angels game the previous night and caught a foul ball and as I sat at David’s bar, they were replaying the Angel game. When I informed him that I caught a foul ball in the next inning, he didn’t believe me and bet me a beer. When he saw that I did and had, the man paid his bet immediately and a friendship was cemented.

And so, with my buddy, Pauly, Baja Cantina became our second home. We met the bartending legend, Big Mike Gorey and Jimmy, Christian, Mike D, Gus, Brett and Jeff. All great guys and terrific bartenders. And then, the servers. The Jen’s (Tall, Mean, Tattoo), Shannon, Serena, Ali, Nicole, Julie, Madison, otra Shannon and one of my best friends in the world, Mike Deza, affectionately known as Veggie. These people didn’t just become friends, they became family. In a period of strife in my life, when everything in my world was tossed upside down and thrown around, these people and Baja felt like home because it was home.

It’s not jumping the shark to say that without Baja and the people there, I wouldn’t have stayed in Los Angeles. I wasn’t from LA and my goals were difficult and seemed overwhelming. I felt lost, alone and a cast away. I can’t tell you how many times Big Mike would tell me to hang in there, great things were around the corner. I can’t put a number on how many people Pete, Dave and Christian introduced me to and how many of those people are still in my life twenty years later. The Will’s, Cliff’s, Wayne’s and the late Matt Stambaugh were introduced to me. And, if Veggie is one of my best friends, it would be criminal for me not to mention one of my other best friends I met at Baja. Kurk Aguilera.

Still in my twenties, I was no longer a kid but still needed some mentorship and Kurk provided it. I never had a big brother, but Kurk took that on (without him realizing it) and delivered me life lessons that I’ve used. And, it’s not an exaggeration when I say Kurk belongs on the Mount Rushmore of Wing Men. He was the best. Kurk, Veggie and I made quite the trio and with other friends such as Michael C, Renea, Lori and Hallie, the down period of my life grew into one of my favorite periods of my life. And Baja was the center; I remember sitting in the Surf Room with Kurk as the GM (I’ll leave his name out of it, but we know who it is) paced back and forth because a female had taken his truck and as we found out… had ‘accidentally’ lit it on fire. And that was a Tuesday.

The high water mark, sadly, was when Jenn moved. A chunk of Baja left with her but before she did, I was lucky enough to attend one of the greatest events I’ve been a part of. The Baja Las Vegas trip stands as a testimony to the love the people who attended, held for each other and the absolute trust everyone had in each other. I’d never spent anytime on Fremont Street but now it’s a part of every Vegas trip. I’d never been to the Double Down Saloon and now it’s in three of my screenplays and my novel. But more important, I got to spend two full days with twenty amazing people.

Sadly, since moving to the South Bay, I don’t see my friends and family as much as I’d like. They have families and kids and in some cases, grand-kids. But they are never far from my thoughts. I attended a reunion last year (almost to the day) as rumors of Baja shutting down, spread. My heart ached at the thought of my beloved home going away but after seeing many of my friends and Money and Stewart and so many more, I realized that Baja wasn’t just a tangible place. It wasn’t merely a building with walls and concrete; Baja was an idea and owns a permanent fixture in my heart. The intangibles are what made that space so special not the guacamole or the margaritas. The people who worked together. The friends who celebrated, laughed and cried together. In the end, it’s our friendships and loves that define our thoughts and memories and carry us to the end. All of that which echoes in the walls of Baja Cantina, echoes in me as do all of those people who lived, worked and loved there. And that will continue to live in the soul of my memories and the heart of my dreams.