Whale watching is a bit of a misnomer—a more accurate title would be “people watching at sea.” You'll spot mullets and wife-beaters, cargo shorts of every variety. While you may sight a few sea lions, it's more likely you'll spot a guy with a permanent sunglasses tan who calls himself “the sea lion.” The $15 ticket is a portal to a strange world, in which faded Hawaiian shirts hang loosely off bodies that (maybe) have seen better days, where shorts fall well below the knee. And where spirits are consistently high. Each occasion takes attendees with the sheer joy, the unrestrained optimism of everyone on board, devoid of any irony or self-consciousness. It's refreshing, and the curving California coastline is mesmerizing in every rolling hill, every tract home with the lights left on. If you time it right, you'll get a wonderful view of the orange-pink OC sunset. So crack a cheap beer, get a good seat, and don't expect to see any whales.
