Naval Amphibious Base Coronado — Attraction in Coronado

Where Dreams Go to Die… and Then Do Push-Ups About It

Welcome to Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, the Navy’s premiere beachfront spa experience—if your idea of “self-care” includes surfig in sand, log PT, becoming a sugar cookie and motivational speakers yelling at you until you start questioning reality. Five stars, hands down.

Nothing beats greeting the sunrise while submerged in the Pacific, shivering so hard you invent new dance moves. It’s like a cold plunge trend, except it lasts six months and comes with sand in your ears, lungs, and future children. You’ll bond with your classmates over shared hypothermia and mild regret.

Positively electric. Every day’s a blast—literally. Nothing quite says “career satisfaction” like sweating through a bomb suit in the Coronado sun while an instructor reminds you that one wrong move turns you into modern art. The optimism here is contagious, mostly because it’s the only thing keeping people from crying.

The beach? Beautiful. You’ll see it up close and personal every morning while doing flutter kicks in it. Forget yoga retreats—this is full-body exfoliation sponsored by King Neptune himself. Cost to you: $0 and your soul.

The gear? Top of the line. Every log, boat, and dummy charge is perfectly engineered to make you regret all your life decisions equally. But hey, at least the view’s nice while you’re suffering.

The instructors? Inspirational. You haven’t lived until someone tells you you’re a failure with the enthusiasm of a motivational speaker. They break you down, build you up, then break you down again. It's like emotional CrossFit.

Pros: world-class sunsets, free sand facials, and enough stories to make civilians think you’re a superhero.

Cons: your body will file for divorce.

Final verdict: 5 stars. It’s not paradise—but it’s the closest thing the Navy has to a spa for people who hate comfort...

📄🧱 “Dear Humanity, My Bad.” — A Letter from Building 322

To Whom It May Concern (and those it may deeply disturb),

Hi. I’m Building 322. You may know me as “that swastika-shaped embarrassment on Google Earth.” First off, I’d like to apologize for my... aesthetic choices. I was young. I was bold. I was a blueprint with dreams.

I never meant to resemble a symbol of historical horror. I just wanted to be edgy. Modern. Symmetrical. But somewhere between “modular efficiency” and “L-shaped barracks,” I accidentally summoned the ghost of 1939.

I blame the architect. He said, “Let’s make four Ls.” I said, “Cool, like a Tetris party.” He said, “Let’s rotate them.” I said, “Wait, that looks kinda—” and boom, I was a hate symbol with plumbing.

I’ve tried to change. I’ve begged the landscapers to plant trees in my shame. I asked the Navy to cover me in solar panels shaped like peace signs. They gave me bushes. Bushes! I still look like a fascist emoji from space.

Please understand: I house sailors, not stormtroopers. I contain bunk beds, not bunk ideology. I am a building, not a belief system.

I’m working on myself. I’ve started therapy with the Pentagon. I’m reading history books. I’ve joined a support group with other buildings who regret their shapes — including a mall in Ohio that looks like a middle finger.

In conclusion, I’m sorry. I never meant to be a symbol of anything other than “military housing with questionable geometry.” Please forgive me. Or at least zoom out on Google Maps.

Sincerely, Building 322 (aka “Oopsie Haus”) P.S There is no mall in Ohio that looks like the middle finger. It was for...

This place is amazing and I loved it so much........ i hope I get to go there again but I think this might be a German business. And I think I heard some gun shots. And their boss had a weird symbol that looked like the Hindu swastika...hmm...... must be over exaggerating... and I the boss had an ugly mustache, and then I saw some Jewish people standing in...