go...

Lag

The following is an account of my first day of vacation in California as written two weeks ago, which was about 2 weeks after I actually returned from California:

It was awesome that “L.A. Woman” was blasting in the car when Marco picked me up from the McClellan-Palomar airport in Carlsbad even though Carlsbad is nowhere near L.A. It was awesome even after Marco told me he had planned for that song to be playing right as he picked me up. We hopped on Highway 1 and made our way to the hotel in Solana Beach, aided on this short journey by a healthy dose of the Beach Boys. We were unabashedly living our clichéd California Dream. All I thought about on the drive was how awesome California was and asked myself why everyone wouldn’t want to live there. Maybe it was the rolling blackouts, the potential of a doomsday scenario earthquake, hippies, and the fact that the guy who played Mr. Kimble in “Kindergarten Cop” is governor of the state. But fuck that, if you saw what I saw as we were driving along the Pacific, those issues would become moot. But maybe it’s just a well-kept secret that if let out of the bag would cause a massive influx of epicures who in their blind pursuit of beauty would ironically transform the state into a dystopia where every man must fend for himself. The state is only so big. After about 25 minutes of driving and turning to each other to collectively yell “this is so awesome!” we finally reached the hotel where I promptly somersaulted onto my bed and napped.