Distracting me from: ...paying my last parking ticket.
Lowering my carbon footprint. Sticking it to high gas prices. Helping the environment. Acknowledging my budget by utilizing public transportation.
None of that really matters. I'm car-free in San Francisco and all I care about is that I don't have to move the car twice a week for street cleaning. REJOICE!
Mi amor y yo made a fairly impromptu trip down to LA on the tail end of my spring break to deposit said inconvenience machine at his house, where it will stay until it is sold (then we'll really rejoice). This began with a 5:45 am start time.
Once we made it past the bridge, we embarked on our drive down the desolate I-5 waiting for the sun to rise. Which it did, slowly and with fairly muted colors of blue (not the golden red eye-gasm I was hoping for).
And then, the unthinkable. A pair of Central California criminals caught up to our car in their motorcycle and ripped my phone out of my own hands. Distraught but not deterred, we took our losses and kept on with our trip home. About an hour later, I noticed something shimmer amongst the yellowing grass and dry dirt. Could it be? Yes, it was my phone! I inspected it immediately, and came across a crucial bit of evidence to find the thieves:
They went to McDonalds. For breakfast. How atrocious. Clearly, after loading up on
Phone safely returned, we made it home in five and a half hours with an easy, unremarkable drive. The weekend home was typical of quick weekends home--too many people to see and not enough time, but this was pretty successful. Got to go into the office, watch a movie with the family, and visit SF abandoners Will and Jace in their super-cute new LA apartment in which we watched hours of RuPaul's Drag Race with a few cocktails (not Absolut...sorry, Ru). Sadly, didn't get to see much of my sister as she was too busy making her director cry while rehearsing her solo for her up-coming role in Pizazz.
The flight back was rather long for an LA to SF trip. If anyone is ever feeling particularly masochistic and wants to witness a cesspool of human stupidity and selfishness, just hop on down to your local airport and go through security. Good Christ. What is it about a metal detector that is so difficult to comprehend? If you're wearing metal, it detects it. This middle-aged woman with a frumpy neon green sweater and bleached, wet-looking hair failed a solid three times in a row before finally removing her bracelets, muttering to herself "Unbelievable, they didn't go off in LA."
This bitch. So, you were aware of your K-Mart metallic accessories, and yet in spite of three botched attempts to walk those two steps through the security device, it didn't occur to you that perhaps you weren't going to get by like you allegedly did in LAX that one time?
Then the line was held up because this poor woman, who has clearly been in a coma the last five-plus years and is only now traveling again, decided to bring an arsenal of Costco-sized bottles of hair and body products in her carry-on, which stopped the security conveyor belt in its tracks. She later also decided that, though she was told to enter from the rear of the plane given her rear seat assignment, she'd just go ahead and enter through the front so more people could get out of her and her mop's way.
Directions are tricky, aren't they?
But, no matter, we are now officially car-free in San Francisco. And I am happy.
