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Guest column: My Hard Rock Hotel middle-aged adventure
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Since my girlfriend couldn’t get a reservation for us at the San Diego Hilton, she assumed the next closest hotel to the conference she was attending would be equally swell, something called the Hard Rock Hotel. Alas, when we arrived there on the last Sunday in May, the hotel’s annual Memorial Day “Intervention” pool party was in full heat with 1,000 young folks dressed in almost nothing, dancing to throbbing “music” and drinking apparently everything. Indeed, we were met in the darkened lobby by a bevy of bikini-clad ladies and a loud rock soundtrack.