Imaginary Conversations and Random Thoughts

So I have to be in LA to register for this state conference at 11AM, and from Bunktown, I've heard a six or seven hour trip is about normal. Well I'm never one to do things the easy way, like getting packed the night before, going to bed early, and getting up at 4AM to make the drive. Instead, I figured my best bet would be to stay up all night Saturday and leave at 4AM Sunday. I'm usually up til about 3AM nowadays anyway, so no big deal.

Traffic was pretty light and all, given the time, and I pretty much did get on the road on time. Even my stay up late skills were taxed a little, but stopping every once in a while helps that out. First stop at the Harris Ranch exit. I can't speak with absolute authority, but you aren't likely to ever see more cows in one place than you will here. I mean, it's like the Grand Canyon of cattle. And it smells like places with cows smell. Which is not so bad, and the people in this countrified area probably don't mind. I had a fountain Coke, some sort of Butterfinger cookie/wafer bar, and watched the sky get light in the east. That helped perk me up.

About forty-five minutes later, everything was getting fuzzy again, so it was time for another stop. This was still north of the grapevine. I realized having something to eat in the car would be helpful, and keep me going better than just eating something at a stop and then driving again, so I loaded up a little. This time I got a fountain Mountain Dew, Honey BBQ Twist Fritos, and two Whatchamacallit bars, which were not as good as I remembered. I probably won't get those again. But the Fritos were good. I would definitely snack on those on a long drive. I also learned that if you don't go to the bathroom, you're motivated to go faster. Which is cool. No gas this time either. Just gives me another excuse to stop and stretch my legs. I figure I'll get gas at Gorman. We stopped there on our way to Code Name Eagle's film school graduation, and I recalled that the Chevron had acceptable bathrooms.

Of course, it wouldn't be me if I didn't miss the exit. And start running low on gas. How lame would I be to run out of gas on some deserted stretch of the grapevine. And so I was a little worried. Could this really be happening? Was I finally going to learn that procrastination isn't always good? And talk about your California Hills In August! Just dirt and dead brown grass as far as the eye could see. Sure there were a couple exits, with no gas. What's up with that? Must I be the victim of the universe's gas-tease game? Apparently so. But then, off in the distance, in the glare of the rising sun, could it be? Structures! And not just some shack, but many buildings together. Houses, maybe? Yes! Oh sweet justice strikes blindly in my favor. And then I see the exit, whichever road it is. The one before Magic Mountain I think (which, I discovered in June, is much better than Disneyland). And I hit the exit just as the "Hey buddy, you're totally screwed on gas" ding goes off. Ha ha ha! Me one, cruel, cruel fate, zero.

Now it's like 8AM, and who should pull in behind me at the pumps but some bastard in a white Hummer. Garrrr I am so jealous of all Hummer drivers. It should be me driving that Hummer!!! I mean, hell's bells, fate couldn't even give me one minute to enjoy my good gas luck before crushing my throat under the massive tire treads of my non-Hummerdom? Bitch. I just got a Mountain Dew this time, no snacks. I was running early, and it looked like I would have plenty of time before check in at 11AM to stop and have breakfast. So early in fact, that I decide to drop by the location and get a feel for the area, the parking situation, stuff like that. My poorly articulated driving directions yeilded to my mental faculties, even on twenty-five hours of no sleep, and I found the place on my first try. Five hours isn't so bad. I was pretty happy with that.

Now I just have to survive two hours of walking back and forth, up and down hills in this heat and humidity, driving from lot to lot, trying to keep ahead of the thirty minute time limit, and having an extremely minor crash in reverse. But we can get into that next time.

For now, one of a series of anti-Arnold quotes, a softy this time: "We're going to kick his ass!" to huge applause. You'd think the guy was Son of Sam or something.

Which by the way, I read a very interesting book about him and I have to tell you about that soon, cause either the guy that wrote the book is totally crazy and living in some fantasy world, or everything you know about that case is totally wrong. The latter is far more disturbing than the former, I promise you.