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Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Close to Home — What it’s like on the street where you live
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
It Was Scary Up There on the Coronado Bay Bridge
This artical reminds me of a story my father once told me. My Dad used to ride his motorcycle to work at North Island. On one such trip over the bridge to get work the traffic was backed up so he made his way though on the motorcycle. One of the bueatys of motorcycles. Then at some point he came upon a car parked on the side. Dad said he saw someone "hanging" over the side. All he cuold see was the mans hands and eyes. They made eye contact and the man let go. Dad stopped the bike and went to side of the bridge to look. Nothing. He couldn't see any signs of the man who he had just made eye contact with. My father, a Vietnam vet, said it creeped him out pretty bad. Dad said it was wierd knowing he was the last person the poor guy saw before ending his life.— June 3, 2011 8:34 a.m.
A lesson on couch surfing in North Park
Couchsurfing is something I herd about a year ago when I was hanging in LA and met some folks from Europe. We partied all night and exchanged emails and now I have an invite to go to Switzerland and ride motorcycles around Europe with this guy and his girl. Highly recommended for the true travelers. See you on a couch somewhere in the world.— May 8, 2009 4:49 p.m.