Photos by Jennifer Fedrizzi Purty!
"Where is this place?" my date asked nervously, looking around at the barely lit street and deserted sidewalks.
We were driving through a desolate, industrial part of Costa Mesa we'd never been to and had no business being in before tonight. A factory with gigantic pressure vessels and pillars spewing steam passed on my left. On the right was a darkened car-repair shop.
"It's around here," I said, trying to sound confident.
Then I saw it. The only hints of life for blocks are a string of lights and a sign in the dark that reads, "Boathouse Collective parking." We parked under the glow of a street lamp and walked toward the entrance: a gap between two shipping containers, with razor wire strung across the tops. As we neared it, a pair of flood lights flickered on, triggered by motion detectors.More »