About Moving To Laguna Beach
This page explains who I am, why I built Moving To Laguna Beach, and how this site helps people make smarter relocation decisions.
How a Sunday Afternoon Changed Everything
I never planned to live in Laguna Beach. I didn’t even know it existed.
Back in the late ’90s, I left my hometown of Clinton, New Jersey, and headed to Portland, Oregon, to visit a friend for a few months. Those few months turned into almost four years. When I finally decided to head home, I figured I’d take the southern route back — drive down the California coast, see parts of Mexico, and eventually make my way back east.
Around December of 1999, after two weeks on the Pacific Coast Highway, I pulled into Huntington Beach. It was about 80 degrees. I told myself I’d stay for a week. That week turned into a lease in Newport Beach.
For the next year I explored as much of Orange County as I could, but I kept missing Laguna Beach. I’d hop on the 405 or the 5 before ever reaching it. I didn’t even know it was there.
Then one Sunday afternoon, I decided to stay on PCH instead of cutting inland. I kept driving south — and I ran into this cute little seaside town that reminded me of Clinton, except on the beach. I spent the day wandering around, soaking it in. Around one or two in the afternoon I ducked into a bar called the Marine Room in downtown Laguna.
The place was nearly empty. An older woman sitting at the bar stopped me as I was about to leave. “Where are you going?” she asked. I told her I was heading back to Newport. She said, “No, no, no — you can’t leave yet. You know who’s playing here today?” I didn’t. She told me a band called Missiles of October would be on soon, the place would be packed, and the music would be incredible. She bought me a beer. I stayed.
Within an hour, the Marine Room was wall-to-wall. Harleys lined the street. The music was everything she promised. That woman introduced me to more people in one afternoon than I’d met in a year in Newport. I had such an amazing time that I got a room instead of driving home.
The next morning, I walked into a local realtor’s office and asked about apartments.
My plan to drive back to New Jersey turned into “I’ll stay a year in Southern California,” which turned into “I’m moving to Laguna Beach,” which turned into — I never left.
