I Went To California and Didn't Die

Truly, it surprised me.

Day One

I wear my Teen Girl Squad tank top, black stretchy pants, purple sneakers and hoodie. Take a car to JFK to fly Jet Blue. I hate going out to JFK. La Guardia is 10 minutes from my house. However, the Jet Blue terminal is nice and efficient, and we're munching on sandwiches in no time. The flight crew is strangely chipper. Direct TV is addictive, and I find myself flipping between cartoons and game shows and neglecting my crosswords and my cassettes. That's right, I fly with cassettes. You got a problem with that?

We arrive in Long Beach, which has a quaint little airport. Baggage claim is outdoors. Already I can sense that California is... different. Sean's friend picks us up in his Mercedes and makes a joke about earthquakes. Ha ha. That evening, we hit Baja Cantina in Marina Del Ray for Mexican food (I have a pork taco and a cheese enchilada). Please keep the salt off my margaritas, fellas! The more intrepid of our little group head to a club called James Beach. They have valet parking. I learn that everything in the LA area has valet parking. That just seems wrong for a bar, you know. Are the valets liable if they hand keys back to a drunk person? Anyway, the bar is also outside. But they have heat lamps, because it's March and for some reason, Southern California is not as warm as I was led to believe.

Day Two

Morning comes and I find that not everywhere in LA is as sunny as I was told, either. The coast is covered in fog. I attempt to dress appropriately in Buffy t-shirt, black cargos, hoodie and purple sneakers. We have brunch at The Rose Cafe in Venice (I have the crabcakes), then set off to drive inland for the sun. We drive very quickly by: Santa Monica, the Hollywood sign, Graumann's Chinese Theatre (with the handprints and the Walk of Fame), The Beverly Hills Hotel, Rodeo Drive (Hermes!), Mullholland Drive (scary! windy! cliffy!), the San Fernando Valley, West Hollywood (The Viper Room, Whisky A-Go-Go), and some other stuff I can't remember. There is sun. We drive with the sunroof open. Then it's back to the Marina, where sun has come, as well, and a stop at Rubio's for fish tacos. I don't eat fish tacos, but Sean does. He loves them. Me, I'm 12 and I think it sounds gross. Hit the grocery store for ground beef and Bloody Mary mix and proceed to grill out, get drunk, and watch "Pimp My Ride" while listening to Miles Davis. I swear I am not making this up.

Day Three

It's time to do... more driving! Thankfully, I gave up driving, so I get to ride and navigate. I love navigating. With a road Atlas in one hand and Frommer's in the other, we start up the coast on California Highway 1, also known as the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH). It's cloudy, so I am slightly bummed, but I'll live. Breakfast is half a leftover cheeseburger, but it's enough. First stop is Santa Barbara. It looks expensive. We get out to stretch our legs. The main drag is not very busy, but we watch some guys skateboard in the oceanside skatepark, then get a smoothie for Sean. I have water. I am not very impressed with California yet, as it is quite cloudy and chilly. We move on.

As we drive north, the sun comes out. We pull over at a rest stop so Sean can call his parents (his Mom had just had open-heart surgery; she's doing very well), and I change into a miniskirt that totally doesn't match my outfit (purple palette striped t-shirt, white socks and purple sneakers) because it's warm and I am happy. My first stop in a public facility in California, and I notice something. Flushable toilet seat covers, aka, ass gaskets. I figure that's normal for a rest stop and put it out of my head. Next stop, Pismo Beach!

We stop at Pismo Beach because Bugs Bunny once mentioned it in a cartoon. Don't ask. After taking Sean's picture by the giant clam statue (the Pismo clam is a nearly extinct mollusk), I discover that the port-a-johns do not have ass gaskets available. Oh well. We stand on the boardwalk and look at the pretty ocean and canoodle for a bit, then it is off to San Luis Obispo. Bye, Pismo clam! We will meet again some day!

San Luis Obispo is kind of an affluent college town. Copeland Sports is everywhere. We decide to eat at Moe's Barbecue, as recommended by Frommer's. It's very good, and there are pictures of other barbecue joints from the southeast on the walls, including Corky's, my fave rib place in Tennessee. Update: There are also toilet seat covers in the bathroom. I start to sense a trend. A quick call to San Simeon informs us that we have just missed the last tour, so we won't be visiting the Hearst Castle. C'est la vie! We decide to just keep driving up the coast to Morro Bay, where they have a big rock. The rock is cool.

From there we head north to Big Sur. This is just wild. We're driving along very high cliffs next to the ocean, but also in the woods. The mountains are to the right of us, and the horizon is the ocean at eye level on the right. I make Sean watch the road because it's very twisty. We catch sunset an must drive through in the dark, because hotels in Big Sur are far too expensive. We pass through Carmel and stop in Monterey.

After laughing at the Hilton's $179 room rate, we find a cute little motel across the street, The Stagecoach Inn. Exhausted and a little cranky, we still take the time to do what most people do in motel rooms, then scoot off to the overpriced and touristy Fisherman's Wharf for a very late dinner at Sapporo. I have steak teryaki and a piece of Sean's unagi (eel) roll. Finally, the long day is over.

More to come.