Do birthdays matter? Not really. But they are, at the very least, an excuse to do something you might not usually do as a middle-aged father of two. On a recent Saturday in September, a birthday became the perfect rationale to drag an assortment of friendship flotsam across the Los Angeles coastline, working our way down through a selection of Southern California beach dive bars. For the second time, professional assignments for media outlets have been called upon to rationalize, or perhaps subsidize, a birthday bar crawl. These old, salt-crusted pubs represent an essential, last-remaining stronghold of regional culture, demanding both respect and financial support to survive the relentless pressures of modern real estate development.

The journey took place on a late-summer weekend, filled with drinks and snacks—though predominantly comprised of quick bites of legendary bar burgers—working our way south from Santa Monica to Manhattan Beach. From there, the group wandered inland for dinner in Torrance, a city renowned for housing some of the finest Japanese food in the United States.

The strategy was to start relatively early, soaking in as much sunlit ocean breeze as possible while still allowing for a normal amount of sleep at the end of the night before waking up at traditional dad hours. The beauty of a structured bar crawl is its inherent flexibility, allowing participants to jump on and off the itinerary as they see fit. A brisk itinerary works best, moving quickly from place to place without worrying over who shows up when and where, simply instructing friends to add necessary estimated times of arrival to the group chat as applicable.

Stop 1: Chez Jay — Santa Monica — 3:25 p.m.

Opened in 1959 and situated a mere eight-minute walk from the beach, Chez Jay has remained a steadfast refuge in a city that has aggressively priced out historic neighborhood bars and restaurants. It is an establishment designed for enjoying a martini or a beer under two primary directives: “take no pictures, and throw your peanut shells on the floor.” Naturally, one of those rules was bent.

While the kitchen was not yet open for full service upon arrival, the peanuts were plentiful and the drink pours were satisfyingly heavy. The interior features red booths and red checkerboard tablecloths that evoke the atmosphere of an old Italian restaurant, though Chez Jay operates firmly in the tradition of a classic steak-and-seafood dining establishment. The crawl started strong, drawing an initial group of six people, including a father and stepmom.

Stop 2: Hinano Cafe — Venice Beach — 4:38 p.m.

Operating on a bustling stretch of Venice Beach since 1962, Hinano Cafe has established itself as an iconic surfer haven serving cold beer and burgers. Operating without a full liquor license, it maintains the traditions of a true surfer bar by serving breakfast from 8 a.m. until noon.

As the group arrived, the crowd swelled with additional friends joining the ranks. Pitchers of beer were poured in a standing-room-only setting, surrounded by day drinkers in board shorts who embodied a youth and aesthetic that made a gaggle of graying dads realize they should not linger longer than it took to order and split a hamburger. Priced at $12.50, the acceptable bar burger served on a sesame seed bun provided a pleasant edible intermezzo. It is the kind of establishment worth revisiting under different circumstances—perhaps with the benefit of a time machine set to 1975.

Stop 3: Prince O’ Whales — Playa del Rey — 5:30 p.m.

Having crossed the marina—historically acting as a major traffic dividing line in Los Angeles County—the group settled into a compact cluster of three bars situated along a mere 0.2-mile stretch of a hidden, working-class Los Angeles beach community. The afternoon sun was beginning to drop, and the ocean breeze offered a welcomed physical relaxation, though the advancing drinks likely played a role as well.

Prince O’ Whales has been serving drinks under its current name for over five decades, following an initial 18-year run under the moniker “The Bowsprit.” The interior features two separate indoor bars, though one remained closed for the afternoon. The bartender possessed the exact brand of amiable grumpiness expected in a proper sailor’s saloon, and the room buzzed with loud patrons engrossed in college football—a sharp reminder of the encroaching realities of aging.

Seeking a quieter atmosphere, the group carried their drinks out to the back patio, a serene patch of cement, faded paint, sun-withered wood, and a lone ping-pong table. This particular round was defined by the quintessential late-summer weather that anchors residents to the Southern California coastline.

Stop 4: The Harbor Room — Playa del Rey — 6:01 p.m.

A brief 90-second walk brought the group to an establishment frequently described as “the smallest dive bar in Los Angeles.” Stepping inside feels akin to discovering a California-themed yokocho tucked away in Tokyo, were it not for the deeply lived-in interior. Lined with aged wood, the space creates the distinct sensation of drinking in the damp bowels of a turn-of-the-century vessel crossing the Atlantic.

A talkative, inebriated stranger quickly integrated himself into the group, asking a barrage of friendly questions. An initial order for a vodka-soda resulted in a gin and tonic, prompting a swift pivot to a gin martini. The drink arrived accompanied by a “sidecar” that, remarkably, consisted of a rocks glass containing a splash of rapidly warming gin.

A curious wander into the adjoining Italian restaurant led to an encounter with welcoming staff who persuaded the table to order food. Following their recommendation for a house favorite, a foil container of steaming hot ravioli was delivered to the table just as the martini was finished. It is the kind of neighborhood fixture that inspires fleeting thoughts of long-term residency should domestic life ever take a drastic turn.

Stop 5: The Shack — Playa del Rey — 6:27 p.m.

Reviewing smartphone photo timestamps reveals the impressive efficiency of consuming a round of martinis and a plate of ravioli within a 26-minute window. Pressing onward, the group made an even shorter walk to the next destination: The Shack, a classic surf bar and restaurant.

The interior appears expertly set-designed, carrying the ideal degree of authentic wear and tear. Significantly more spacious than the previous stop, the group secured seating at the bar and ordered the signature Shack Burger alongside a round of wings. The namesake burger arrives crowned with a butterflied Louisiana hot link, functioning similarly to a juicier, snappier, and spicier cut of bacon. Meanwhile, reflections on personal capacity highlighted the rare occasion of consuming five or six drinks across a single afternoon—a skill that modern paternal responsibilities rarely put to the test.

Stop 6: Ercole’s — Manhattan Beach — 7:23 p.m.

Nearing its centennial anniversary—having originally opened during Prohibition, though not always operating as a drinking establishment—Ercole’s could easily serve as the anchor of any regional bar crawl. Known among locals as the home of the best dive bar burger in Los Angeles County, this defiant institution has successfully withstood skyrocketing real estate values to preserve its status as a quintessential neighborhood dive.

Operating as a sacred escape from the wealth surrounding the broader Manhattan Beach community, the interior is constructed primarily of aged wood and vintage beer signage. A strict system features one line for ordering drinks and another for accessing the restroom. The patrons—ranging from older residents in Hawaiian shirts to tattooed bikers—seem acutely aware of the privilege of occupying space within its walls.

In the corner behind the bar sits a small grill positioned beneath a yellow sign proudly declaring “no fries.” The cheeseburger stands as an exercise in simple chargrilled perfection, utilizing meat sourced directly from the adjacent butcher shop and served in a basket alongside a bag of potato chips. Although the menu also lists a teriyaki chicken sandwich, it remains a mythical entity, unseen in the wild. Time constraints demanded a swift departure, prompting a quick phone call to alert the final dinner reservation of a looming 20-minute delay.

Stop 7: Torihei — Torrance — 8:15 p.m.

Having successfully maintained a strategy of snacking rather than heavy eating throughout the beach dive crawl, the group settled around a long table adorned with cold beers and sake. At this stage of the evening, few culinary creations could rival the comfort provided by Torihei’s simmered slab of daikon radish, served in a rich dashi broth and blanketed in katsuobushi flakes of smoked, dried skipjack tuna.

This classic izakaya specializes in yakitori, featuring grilled chicken skewers, alongside oden, which comprises various ingredients simmered in broth. The group sipped beers, enjoyed tender chicken cartilage alongside grilled chicken meatballs, and concluded the evening with bowls of soborodon featuring ground chicken and rice.

Home, showered, and safely in bed before 11:15 p.m., the expedition successfully captured the spirit of a well-executed birthday tradition.