If San Diego were a person, there is a good chance they would have some connection to the military. Maybe they served. Maybe they grew up in a military family. Maybe they moved there because of a posting and ended up staying permanently.
However it happened, it would show up in small ways. They would be organized without trying too hard to be organized. They would know how to pack efficiently. They would show up early but act casual about it. They would somehow have equipment for everything and know exactly where it’s stored.
That influence feels embedded into San Diego’s maritime identity. For decades, people arrived intending to stay only temporarily and ended up building entire lives around the waterfront. Between the military presence, the working harbor, the marinas, sportfishing fleet, yacht clubs, and year-round boating weather, San Diego developed into the kind of place where being near the water becomes less of an activity and more of a default setting.
If San Diego were a person, fishing would not necessarily be their hobby. Fishing would simply be part of who they are.
They would know fish counts without needing to check. They would understand that not all tuna are created equal. They would know what moved through the banks last week and probably know somebody who was there. They would talk about offshore conditions with complete confidence and casually mention distances that sound unreasonable to everyone else. Forty miles offshore would not seem particularly ambitious. Overnight trips would feel normal. Multi-day trips would be considered an acceptable use of vacation time.
San Diego would also carry a quiet confidence that comes from geography.
Living farther south means access to opportunities that often arrive before the rest of Southern California gets involved. Offshore fisheries frequently develop there first. Tuna that later become the talk of Orange County often start showing up farther south. San Diego knows this. San Diego does not necessarily announce this, but there is usually a subtle confidence underneath the conversation.
If somebody from farther north starts talking about fish, San Diego would probably smile politely and say something like, “Sounds like they’re finally starting to see some up there.”
Not rude. Just observational.
Appearance-wise, San Diego would not look overly polished.
They’d probably be a little sunburned. Their truck would permanently contain sand and miscellaneous marine gear. Their sunglasses would have salt spots. Their wardrobe would mostly consist of old fishing shirts, event hats, and clothes that somehow work equally well for grabbing lunch, washing the boat, or stepping aboard for an afternoon cruise.
And despite looking relaxed, San Diego would quietly surprise people.
Because San Diego has a particular style of wealth that is difficult to identify at first.
Not flashy wealth.
Boat wealth.
The kind where someone says they’re trying to simplify life and then casually mentions they have a slip, a center console, an offshore membership, and plans for a six-day trip later this season. The kind of person who says they’re keeping things low key while standing next to equipment worth more than most people’s first house.
Of course, there is one subject where San Diego would stop pretending to be easygoing.
Mexican food. OH! And craft beer! Tons of craft beer.
This would not be up for discussion.
Breakfast burritos would matter. Fish tacos would matter. Post-fishing burritos would matter. Everyone would have strong opinions and nobody would agree. Entire friendships would probably be built around recommendations and defended over salsa choices.
And somewhere between offshore fishing, harbor sunsets, regattas, military traditions, marina weekends, and spontaneous taco stops, San Diego would reveal what makes it feel different from other waterfront communities.
San Diego is a diehard Padres fan. I get it — “Katherine, that’s San Diego’s team. Every city is crazy for their team.” My response? No, not the way San Diego is. They’re the Red Sox fans of the West Coast. Those dock rats have no difficulty stepping off the docks and getting to Petco Park.
If San Diego were a person, they would not spend much time trying to impress anyone.
They would simply invite you out on the water.
Because they already know once you spend enough time there, you usually understand why people never leave.
