Stepping out of a front door in Seal Beach is like walking into a small 1950s beach town. Kids leave their bikes (unlocked and everything!) on the front yard of their quaint one-story houses, neighbors say hello as you stroll by, the air smells of the beach as a crisp ocean breeze wafts by—complete with the sound of ship horns in the distance. You half-expect to see a milkman making his morning deliveries. Even Main Street transports you back in time, with its bevy of smallish restaurants and cutesy knickknack shops. Throw a bunch of Irish bars into the mix, and you've got the closest thing to a small-town beach paradise that our materialistic, consumerist, oversized, overtanned county has to offer. And there are cute surfers, too, for good measure! God bless America.