No, it's the Ritz

The weekend retreat at the Ritz in Half Moon Bay was just the ticket. It started off with a bang. On the way to the resort, we happened to spot one of our colleagues darting around in his new BMW M3 convertible. He shot us the "wanna race" glance and in no time, we were off to the races. Not much of a matchup given I was driving my lowly Subaru Outback. But one of my passengers knew of a shortcut through a local road bypassing a particularly nasty stretch of Highway 1, the route our bimmer friend took. Needless to say, the porter was carting our bags into the hotel just as the M3 roared into the valet station. Chalk one up for the underdog. Indeed, knowledge is power. Later that afternoon, we made sure to rib him plenty about the embarrassing defeat. The dinner in the Miramontes Room rocked. Grilled lobster tails and fresh raw bar served out on a clifftop terrace overlooking the Pacific Ocean during sunset... it had a dreamlike quality to it. Afterwards, everyone congregated around the fire pit for the ritual cooking of the smores. Others opted for cigars and cognac. The best part was going back to my room which came furnished with a large and inviting marble bath and had incredible views of the coastline and the nearby golf links. It all conjured up that classic scene in one of my all-time favorite movies, Field of Dreams, when Shoeless Joe Jackson surveys the pristine baseball diamond built on Ray Kinsella's wheat field... Shoeless Joe: "Is this heaven?"... Ray: "No, it's Iowa."