Cruise Chronicles: Imagination Day 2 - In Search of Gilligan's Isle

Prior to going on the cruise, Ana and I wanted to watch each sunrise. Too make a long story short that never happened. Not because we weren’t awake (our internal clocks are set to a waking baby at 6 a.m.), but because our bed was soooooo comfortable. Having fresh high thread count sheets every day, your bed made in the morning and turndown service at night spoiled me rotten. Plus, breakfast served in bed with the deep azure Caribbean Sea splashing outside your window made for some lazy mornings. Each morning started with a light breakfast of bagel, lox and cream cheese with coffee for me and tea for the misses. Why couldn’t we bring our cabin steward home with us?!?

Room with a View

Learning from previous cruises, we knew that the main dining room was open to all guests for a formal breakfast, so we would typically have breakfast in bed at 6, and breakfast in the Pride Dining Room at 9. No wonder I gained 8.5 pounds on the trip, and why by the 5^th day my pants weren’t so roomy anymore. Time to head back to the gym…

Alas, we went to our second breakfast, where you are randomly seated with other cruisers. In the past, this has been a somewhat quiet affair, but not this day. We were stuck across from each other between two families, which should never have happened because if people followed proper dining etiquette, you always sit to the left of your lady. But judging by these morons, etiquette to them is raising their pinkie when they sip their Boone’s Farm Strawberry Wine.

As we were eating, we eavesdropped on our fellow cruiser’s conversations (how couldn’t we!). We overheard an awful previous cruise experience had by the unfortunate couple to my right. On their last cruise, they were tendered to an island (similar to how we were tendered on Day 4) and while on the island, a fierce storm developed. The seas were so rough that the guests could not be tendered back to the cruise ship. Roughly 1,000 guests were stuck on a deserted isle with minimal food, as lunch had already been served, and little protection from the elements. They told of guests hoarding food and blankets, bickering, fighting and overall dreadful sleeping conditions. The real injustice was that many had left their medications on the ship. Finally, after 24 hours, they were able to return to the ship where they received complimentary beverages, their cruise reimbursed and a future cruise for free! I think I could sweat it out on an isle for a night if I knew I’d be getting freebies! Yet, I feel for those who were probably sunburned, missing medication and overall frightened. Just thinking of terrified children makes me queasy. Would this be our fate on Half Moon Cay? Stay tuned for Day 4…

Now to my left, another equally disturbing situation was unfolding, yet not from a past cruise experience, but because of a righteous asshole. Making casual conversation with the elderly lady on my left, I noticed a red faced bespectacled buffoon lambasting the wait staff about the “consistency” of his eggs. “I ordered these poached! These are all runny!” he bellowed at the poor Filipino waiter, who apologetically removed the plate and took them back to the kitchen. Before leaving our sight, we noticed that the eggs were indeed poached, and slightly runny, AS POACHED EGGS SHOULD BE YOU INBRED IDIOT! And speaking of inbred, I learned that the ill-tempered ass was on vacation with his wife and his elderly parents, who wouldn’t even acknowledge his tirade over something so insignificant as the style of his eggs. It appeared they were terrified and/or mortified of his behavior. Later the waiter returned with “poached” eggs to order, which looked eerily similar to hard fried…This would not be my last encounter with this man, not by a long shot.

Me Looking Incredibly Chapel Hill-ish

Having completed my dual breakfast with a tasty dish of Eggs Benedict, Ana and I braved the Sea of Flesh, and made our way to the Verandah Deck for some sunbathing. Now, by no stretch of the imagination, I am no bo-hunk. I’m a 32 year old fun loving guy, who has eaten too many tacos and had too many beers in my past, yet, it was vacation, so I was game to blind my fellow cruisers with my 200 watt skin. We found two chez lounges on the balcony deck, as far as possible from the skinny, tan, drunk crowd, and relaxed between two Hawaiian Tropically-tan ladies. With us between them, it probably looked like a Double Stuff Oreo, with us as the pasty white cream filling!

Feeling the effects of the sun, I decided to brave the “fun” crowd and go down one level to the pool and hot tub. I immediately jumped into the pool in a veiled attempt to hide my “Truffle Shuffle” belly (By the way Ana has a video of my doing the Truffle Shuffle from the movie Goonies on the beach at Half Moon Cay. Decidedly, you will not see that video on this blog). Once I hit the water, I realized this was not pool water, but cool, salty sea water. As Ana put it, “It’ll give you a good nose enema.” Shivering, I jumped out of the pool and quickly slid into the hot tub, which was then quickly vacated by the other guests. Did I forget deodorant? While I lazed in the warm water, feeling the sun beat down on my face until I noticed three Barbies standing by the hot tub. Feeling thirteen (i.e., awkward about my appearance), I exited the hot tub and returned to Ana on the Verandah. As I sat down, she smiled at me and said “Those girls go in and soon as you got out!” I’m glad Ana likes my appearance.

Undeterred, I looked at Ana and said, let’s go down the waterslides! Back in October of 2007, the Imagination had a 55 million dollar upgrade, which included the installation of a water park on the rear of the ship. What a kids’ paradise. There were two “racing” slides, and a 4 story twisty curvy tube slide. I immediately gravitated towards the huge slide and begged Ana to watch me like I was a 5 year old trying to impress his mom. I patiently waited my turn, and then finally made it to the top. It had been decades since my last water slide experience, and the thought of twisting down a tube 4 stories above the 12^th deck of a cruise ship slicing through the Caribbean was like a daydream. I braced myself, slid into the tube and immediately felt my swim trunks slide right up my backside, which felt like a different kind of “nose enema.” The ride was bumpy, scratched my back, but damn, it was awesome. I pleaded with Ana to do it but the sight of me pulling my shorts out of my back-crack probably deterred her from enjoying that stimulating experience.

Water Slides!

From there, we changed clothes and decided to, what else, go eat! We had our formal lunch again in the Pride Dining Room, and were seated with a family from Canada. The lunch was uneventful save for the Canadian conversation. We resisted the urge to make small talk with them about hockey, as Ana and I are huge Hurricanes fans. I thought it would be too cliché to discuss hockey with a Canadian, yet, what else would there be to talk about? Moose? Snow? Strange Brew? Anyways, we sat back, listening (we love to people watch) to the teenage girl talk to her mother about an island that was off in the distance. Her voice rose and said “I see land. That must be Cuba!” I looked out the window and saw a small island, oh, the size of Gilligan’s Island that had a single water tower on it. Now, I know Cuba is impoverished but I also know it is about the size of Florida and surely would have more than one measly, rusted water tower I smirked my pompous smile, and thought, girl, we are about 200 miles north of Cuba, plus we are traveling southeast and you are looking northeast. Even if you could see 200 miles into the distance, you are still looking out the wrong side of the boat, Blondie. As an aside, her boyfriend, who had Blondie’s mom as a third wheel (how romantic) ordered sushi, and promptly peeled the seaweed, ate the rice and left the filling. Guess that is a Canadian Roll.

After lunch, we cruised (bad pun) to the Xanadu Lounge on the Promenade Deck to attend the Art Auction. On our last cruise, the auctioneers were two sweet gents from South Africa. Prior to the auction, they decided to hold a raffle to win free art. To win raffle tickets, you had to answer trivia questions about South Africa, and the catch was you could never have visited the Rainbow Nation. Fair enough. I’d never been to the ZA, but boy, do I know a lot about that land. Needless to say, we got all the questions right (e.g., hippopotamus, Mandiba, Boers, etc.), and the raffle was loaded in our favor. We eventually came away with two lovely pieces that now reside above our fireplace and in Kendal’s bathroom.

Xanadu Lounge - Promenade Deck

Unfortunately, we had no such cosmic luck on this cruise. However, unlike the last cruise, people were actually bidding on the art! One Russian man bid approximately $20,000 on several original works by Anatole Krasnyansky, who paints in a distinctive bold color style specializing in hiding faces in his work. It was nice, but not $20,000 nice… There were a few original art works by a Miami pop artist that we liked, however, they were in the $1,200 to $2,000 range, which we could not justify purchasing. Maybe one day.

Krasnyansky's Work

After the art auction, we made our way back to the Dynasty Lounge for the Captain’s Cocktail Party. This party is a precursor to the formal dinner night, so Ana and I were decked out in our best. This for me meant I was wearing one of Dad’s old suits that just happened to be 100% wool. Trust me, wool is not something I’d advise wearing in the Eastern Caribbean. Although I looked dapper, I was more suited for an executive business meeting in December, and not a lobster dinner on a cruise ship in May.

The cocktail party was quaint, but really not note worthy save for the 5 free drinks I managed to slam down in 45 minutes. Five drinks on a cruise ship is about $30, so if you know my coal to diamond penny pinching antics, I was not going to let this pass by. After the party, we were immediately escorted to our formal lobster dinner in the Spirit Dining Room. As with my last lobster cruise dinner, it was lackluster. Dry, overcooked lobster that tasted as if it was freshly caught last week, flash frozen then trucked 1,800 miles to Miami where it sat in the ship’s freezer on dry ice for another 36 hours.

For dinner, I dined on:

• Tiger Prawn Cocktail
• Caesar Salad again (maybe, I can’t remember for sure)
• Broiled Lobster Tail with Melted Butter
• Warm Melting Chocolate Cake with Vanilla Ice Cream

Sated from an overhyped uncomfortably woolen meal, we made our way back to the Dynasty Lounge to watch the stage show America! The show was a tribute to all songs that had to do with cities or locations in the United States, plus a show stopping rendition of Coming to America by Neil Diamond. I know somewhere in Kentucky, Rob is salivating as I type this. The show was utterly corny, the singing was haphazardly done by a Wayne Brady look-a-like, and a woman who fancied herself Beverly D’Angelo from the Vacation movies. Her voice was so smoky she sounded like she had swallowed the entire ashtray. Alas, there were a few shining stars that included a dance couple from Russia who were amazing, and a showgirl Ana and I later met who was phenomenal. She showed grace and controlled movements, but perhaps our view was skewed as she was the only one with a dancer’s body (i.e., had shoulder blades and abs).

The show ended around 9:45, which is customarily around our bedtime, so off to those turned down sheets we headed!

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Cruise Chronicles: Imagination Day 1 – Strange Encounters

The day began at the unholy hour of 4 a.m., awoken not to an alarm clock, but to the sweet heart wrenching cry of Kendal. Our 6 day journey on the high seas was about to begin, but without our pride and joy. For a brief moment, I saw the infinite depth of Ana’s love as she kissed Kendal and placed him in Mamaw’s bed. I knew at that instance this would be our last vacation without our children for the next 20 or so years, and as a family man, that is just fine with me. As Ana later told me, “It is great to spend time as a couple, but we are not complete unless we are whole.” I could not agree more.

Having checked our bags onto our free American flight to Miami (Thank you Citi Rewards Points!), we groggily made our way to our gate. Needing a rest stop, I entered the restroom and was cheerily greeted with a belch to the face that had a strong hint of Eau de Old Milwaukee. What a way to start a vacation!

After washing this dude’s booze ooze off my face, we were ready to begin boarding. We just settled into our cozy seats at the back of the plane, when low and behold, The Belcher came stumbling down the aisle with his Belcheress. They sat cattycorner behind us, and then came the cell phone calls. Ring, ring. “Dude, I’m going on vacation. Call Steve if you need help…” Ring, ring. “Dude, I’m …” Ring, ring. Dude, have you heard of voice mail? No, no, never. Methinks The Belcher liked the sound of his own blathering voice, however, blissfully the attendants made him turn off his cell phone after 4 or 5 calls. Upon which time, The Belcher began suction cleaning and tongue polishing his girlfriend’s wisdom teeth for the remainder of the flight. Slurp and burp. Certain people just have a way of getting under my skin, yet, this couldn’t go on forever, right? Right?

Bon Voyage, Miami!

Soon enough, we were beginning our final approach into Miami International, and the search for the transfer bus to the port was on. By the way, when I say International, I mean international. Perhaps I have lived in Franklin County too long, but I could not understand any of the Miami "locals." One exchange between Ana and a Carnival Attendant sounded like an Abbott and Costello “Who’s on First” routine. After several rounds of ¿Que?, Who?, ¿Cuando?, What?, ¿Como?, we managed to decipher the word venti-eight (28 for those who don’t speak Spanglish) and made off for Baggage Claim 28.

Securing our place in line for the Imagination bus, I found a Rey de la Hamburguesa, or a Burger-o King-o for the Spanish disinclined. Returning to our seats in line, Ana headed off for Round Two of ¿Que?, Who?, ¿Cuando?, What?, ¿Como?, and I was heartily greeted by a seemingly lovely older couple from Chattanooga, TN. As I sat down, she said “My goodness I bet you thought we’d never get here. Did you think we were lost?” I immediately thought, does Ana know these people from somewhere (which she did not), then said “No, Ma’am.” She next said, “Ma’am? Oh, I can tell you are from the South.” More like South California. I nodded in agreement, and she continued to drone on and on about Tennessee and black people going on our cruise. Sweet Mary, I do attract the loons, eh? Coincidentally, there was a large contingent of black people who appeared to be having a family reunion on the cruise. To which the Crazy Lady commented, “My goodness, do all black people know each other?” I nodded, and resisted the urge to comment that they are all “brothers and sisters” but I doubt she would have got the silliness of my bad black/reunion joke.

Luckily, the awkwardness on my part was broken when Ana reappeared with our transfer tickets and we began boarding the bus. Once on the bus, Ana told me that she and the Crazy Lady had an even WEIRDER conversation while I was gone about sunscreen and sunburns. To which Crazy Lady said, and I am not making this up, “I have to keep my face out of the sun, otherwise it looks like a cow pooted in my face.” Say what? The best we could deduce was that she gets freckles on her face from sunburns, but thankfully we will never know the answer. No sooner had Ana told me this, Crazy Lady and her husband sat down in front of us in the handicap seats. Why, Lord, why? My prayers were answered, and they moved to the rear of bus realizing the seats were reserved for handicapped. I breathed a sigh of relief, then felt the cruel hand of fate smack me upside the head, as The Belcher and his bloated babe plopped down in front of us. Shit. They were going on our cruise. I wondered if this had something to do with us missing church the day before…

Sailing Away!

I endured The Belcher during our brief ride to the port, while our Haitian driver gave us a “spoken tour” of the Miami area. I could not understand one word. Oh, my Franklin County ears. However, the only audible English he spoke was at the end of the ride when he clearly pronounced and annunciated “I am not an employee of the cruise line, therefore please remember to tip.” We tipped, retrieved our bags, carried them 10 feet to another Haitian who took our bags and then held out his hand. Ah, money, the international language.

Next we made our way into the Port of Miami. I will say this is a spectacular facility. It made the Norfolk and Jacksonville ports look like the minor leagues. There were at least 30 check-in terminals with flat screen TVs everywhere trumpeting the amenities of the Carnival Imagination. We quickly were in front of a Carnival representative who began our embarkation procedures. Midway through the process, the rep paused, looked at us with concern and said that there was a restriction on our boarding passes. Great. I’ve heard of the “do not fly” list, but the “do not sail” list? She took our passports and headed off to the main office. Ah, shit. We wracked our brains thinking of what it could be…

We were then waived over to the corporate office, where we were asked to sit and wait. An “official” looking man came sheepishly over and looked at me with trepidation. He turned to Ana and asked VERY delicately, “Your boarding papers indicate you are…expecting.” I toyed with the idea of looking at Ana and saying, “YOU’RE PREGNANT?!”, but I could tell that this reaction was what the employee was trying to avoid. We clearly stated, “No, we are not pregnant. We had a false positive and are definitely not pregnant.” Which is true, from a certain point of view.

That crisis passed, we were onto the boat where we entered the Grand Atrium on the 7^th deck. This room was 7 stories tall and so awesomely gaudy, it was amazing. The room had two glass elevators, casino carpet, black-light paintings, enough neon for Times Square and was ringed on all seven levels with hundreds of Egyptian Sphinx busts with big ole’ boobies. Nipples and neon everywhere!

The Grand Atrium - Empress Deck

We got our frequent cruiser Sail and Sign™ cards (our key to some future free beverages) and headed to the Lido Deck for a bite to eat while our bags were being scanned and taken to our room (Riviera 211). Once on Deck 10, we settled in at the Horizon Bar and Grill, where according to Ana, I began to pout. The last cruise we took, Ana and I wracked up a ghastly three page $1,400 cruise bill on booze and excursions. It was awesome, yet not to be this trip because…

Back in March at a hockey game, I drunkenly agreed to a bet with Ana that the next time she was pregnant I would go the entire nine months without a drop of alcohol. Well, no less than 3 HOURS after we booked the cruise, we found out that Ana was indeed pregnant. No false positive as happened the month prior, all four tests came back gleaming blue! For your information, when we had begun the ticket ordering process, Ana did have a false positive, so in essence we did not lie to the concerned employee mentioned above. The reason we fudged admitting the next month’s pregnancy test was because if they knew she was pregnant, she was supposed to have written doctor’s approval to cruise (our ob appointment wasn’t until a few days after we got back from the cruise) and they wouldn’t allow her on any excursions. Now, no alcohol (which is a given) and no excursions for Ana would make for a not so fun cruise…which leads to my “apparent” pouting.

Mmm, Toxic Concoction at the Horizon Grill - Lido Deck

To this day, I will stand by my guns and say that I wasn’t pouting, but Ana disagrees. She looked at me, shook her head, got up and came back with a virgin Pina Colada and rip roaringly toxic concoction for me. All it took was one drink and I was smooth sailing. Must have been all the Bacardi 151 with a splash of fruit juice. For those who are interested, the cruise was a reprieve and I am back supporting mama, and don’t let her fool you, she had a few sips here and there ;-)

After sailing out of the harbor, we retired to our room where Ana took her customary 2 hour nap. I took this time to scout the ship, learn the decks and figure out the confusing elevator system. Trust me, if I hadn’t of done this, we’d still be stuck on the Verandah deck trying to figure out how to get to our room. Unaware that I had even left the room, Ana finally woke up (I did tell her where I was going, but she “sleep talked” the conversation). We headed up to dinner in the Spirit Dining Room, where we met our tablemates (I will discuss them later, as this post is already way too long).

I dined on:

• Cherrywood-Smoked Breast of Long Island Duckling
• Caesar Salad with Anchovies
• Grilled, Aged New York Sirloin Steak with Three Peppercorn Sauce
  
• Cheesecake with Strawberry Dipping Sauce

Dynasty Lounge - Atlantic & Promenade Decks

After dinner, we headed to the Dynasty Lounge, another spectacular room dedicated to bad taste and horrid décor, but that is what makes Carnival special. It’s like a floating Vegas Hotel. Anyways, we took our seats in the second level “balcony” of the lounge and sat back to watch Game Show Trivia. The first three contestants headed to the stage, and wouldn’t you know it, The Belcher was contestant number two (fitting). We watched him get completely annihilated, most likely due to his blood alcohol level being higher than his IQ. During this trivia debacle, Crazy Lady Cow Poot Face walked right in front of our seats, grabbed the brass pole next to our table, tried to swing on it (like a stripper, I guess), and tripped. Not wanting to extend our record setting run-ins with these two yahoos and having had such a long day, we cut the evening short and watched the waves splash beneath our starboard side window as the boat gently rocked us to sleep.

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UP NEXT: Cruise Chronicles: Imagination Day 2 - In Search of Gilligan's Isle

Bon Voyage!

My office door reads...

If you are reading this, you are at work.
Ha, ha, ha!

Who wants to bet that sign is vandalized or torn down?

The Adventures Continue

The day is dawning on a new adventure for Circle A and T-Square. Beginning May 5th, we shall depart on an Eastern Caribbean cruise bound for Grand Turk, Half Moon Cay and the City of Nassau in the Bahamas. Shortly thereafter new adventures will be posted for your viewing pleasure. Unlike the last cruise, I will remember this entire cruise. Wink, wink...

Just to rub it in a little, here are a few pictures of our future island destinations aboard the Carnival Imagination.

Carnival Imagination




Cockburn Town, Grand Turk




Half Moon Cay, Bahamas




Nassau, Bahamas

I have also been hard at work on previous adventures that never made it to the old 360 blog. That blog took on a mind of its own, and failed to follow the main purpose of chronicling our adventures. My intent is to have these blogs be bound in book format for each calendar year, and serve as a history for our children. To qualify as an adventure, it must be: a life changing event; an overnight excursion; or be a place of significance...

Future adventures to come include (and some have been written, so they already have titles):

The Phoenix Rises

An Innocuous Note

The Birth of Bubba

First Date

2^nd Date

Run Hill

Falls Lake

Stone Mountain

Washington DC

Anza Borrego (completed)

Indy #1

Richmond

Hot Springs

Cruise #1

Washington

Greenville

Cary

Louisburg

The Dark Side of the Luna

Wedding & Party

Ft. Knox #1 & Indy #2

Linville Falls

The Greatest Adventure

Thornbeer Fest

Ft. Knox #2

PCS Phosphate

Yadkin Valley Wine Tour

Ft. Knox #3

Ana, feel free to add adventures that I've missed...

Anza Borrego: Epilogue - Home Again

Mom & Dad

From my first trip as an infant, caged in a baby pen, to my last visit with Analee, Anza Borrego has been my Eden. From my early years until college, I camped in Agua Caliente at least once a year. If there has ever been a constant in my life, the desert is it. No matter what problems were occurring in my life, ups and downs in my family or worldwide strife, the desert was always there. It was either a reward or a refuge. It is an eternal home.

Growing up, I always felt like an only child, even though I have 4 brothers and sisters. All of my siblings left the nest by the time I was twelve, and I was the son of a traveling businessman. When I felt alone, the desert reunited my family. My sisters came in from college in San Diego. My too cool brother was there (if only for a brief skirt chasing rest). My mom was there, of course, and my dad made the time to be there.

As a child, the desert was pure joy. I played in the sand. Hiked on trails. Swam in warm mineral water. We had water balloon fights. We bravely traversed Moonlight Trail in the dark. We watched the rangers give presentations on snakes and stars. We made Easter eggs. We hiked Ghost Mountain. Although I’m sure I’m looking back with rose-colored glasses, it is special to me. It is the one place I can always know that we were a family.

Now those knowing how important family is to me, can probably relate to the issues I had a year or so ago. Again, my attempts to have a family and share my love failed. I was not angry. I was not spiteful. I was just sad. It was like a death. However, I soon realized that from death comes birth. What seemed like a curse was a blessing in disguise.

That is why I’ve never given up on my dream. My dream to have a wife that loves me and a family who I can love. I never gave up because all that soul searching during the past 2 ½ years has lead me to one constant in my life. In fact, two constants in my life, the desert, and most importantly, my family.

Now that you can see that the desert is so strongly connected to my feelings of family, you can no doubt understand why it was imperative for me to return after 10 years and to bring Analee. I returned, not to lick my wounds and seek refuge, but to stand tall and show my scars. I returned to get what I deserve, a desert and a family.

Anza Borrego Part XI - Green Sticks and Slippery Rocks

Refreshed from a sleep uninterrupted by rain, quail, coyotes, blustery winds, Koreans, etc., we had until 9:00 pm to see Los Angeles. Impossible, you say? Well, you haven’t had one of my tours! First off, don’t bother yourself with actually going into Los Angeles. The view of LA from Palos Verdes (Spanish for Green Sticks) is about all you need. It’s a beautiful sight, yet it is sanitized for your viewing pleasure. None of the crime, gangs, traffic and pollution you’d get if you ventured into the concrete jungle.

View of Los Angeles from Palos Verdes

This final day turned out to be crystal clear. After the previous day’s rain, the ocean was deep azure and the vegetation was a stunning green. All the colors were so vibrant. It was the perfect day to show Analee my hometown, and we began, of course, at the beach. Unlike the Atlantic, the Pacific has two styles of beaches, rocky and sandy. Due to the relative youth of the Pacific coastline, erosion from waves and wind have yet to whittle Pacific rocks into itty-bitty particles of sand like the Atlantic. Enough science.

The first beach we went to was Lunada Bay. To get to this beach, you have to traverse a steep trail from the cliff above down 250 feet or so to the craggy beach below. As a youth, I remember people carrying their surfboards down this trail, so how hard could it be? Harder than I thought. This difficult trail was even more dangerous because Analee was wearing tread-less flip-flops. Bad idea. I had to go in front of Analee and brace her as she came down. Not our smartest move, but we made it down. At the base of the trail was a memorial marker for a girl who fell off the cliff. A reminder as to how dangerous these cliffs can be. Safely down, we set off across the rocks to the ocean, stopping here and there to search tide debris for bones and shells.

Lunada Bay

It was a neat moment to see Analee finally touch the Pacific Ocean after 30 years of waiting. Actually, Analee didn’t touch the ocean, the Pacific touched her. Analee wanted the moment captured on film, so she turned her back on the ocean for a picture. As she smiled a wave crashed in and got her backside drenched. The frigid Pacific says “Hello!” We then sat and watched the waves, as Analee’s shoes dried. Don’t want slick shoes without any tread going up that trail. No way. After grabbing our fill of shells and now that Analee was a sea salt lick, we headed back up the cliff to head to the sandy beach.

The Wave is about to Crash!

On the flip side, Ratt Beach is a long, sandy beach that runs down the length of Los Angeles until it reaches the shores of Malibu. We enjoyed searching for sea shells, and watching the birds play tag with the waves. Don’t know the exact bird, but a bunch of them would chase the waves out and feast on sand critters, then run for their lives as the next wave came crashing in. It was quite funny. Eventually, we had to leave the beach (time was running short and the wind was hectic that day!). We spent the remainder of the day weaving around the curvy PV streets, and taking pictures of all the beautiful houses.

We stopped by my old house. It was uneventful. I don’t get too worked up over PV, etc. If you knew the people like I did/do, you wouldn’t care much for the place either (obnoxious, rich a$$holes). The only saving grace for PV is the stunning scenery, yet, that comes at an apocalyptic price tag. As the vacation began to wind down, we made our way to Del Cero park at the top of Palos Verdes. From there we watched our first Pacific sunset together. Very romantic, yet as blustery as a hurricane.

The Old Casa

Running out of time, we made our way to a make-your-own sushi place in Torrance. This was an awesome restaurant, and I wish the Triangle had one! Of course, if the Triangle had one, then that would mean MORE ASIAN DRIVERS! Oh well. This restaurant allowed you to choose the ingredients of your sushi (veggies, meat, etc.), and the style you want your roll done. It was quite ingenious, yet, it didn’t appear that the craze was catching on. While we were there though, the chef was trying out new sushi rolls and allowed Analee and I to taste them. Can’t remember the new rolls, but they were tasty!

Neptune Fountain at Malaga Plaza - Do you want cream with your coffee?

At 9:00 pm we made our way to the Avis center to drop off our trusty Trail Blazer. If we lived near a desert, I would consider getting one of these cars. Although the Blazer looks and feels like a Mom/grocery store vehicle, it truly was a good off-road warrior. I’d highly recommend one.

All that was left now was to board our midnight flight back to Carolina. What a journey this ended up being. The flight was delayed, gates were moved, then moved back. All the while, we were treated to the Slippery Rock University’s track team, and all their hormonal shenanigans. Needless to say, we did not get our own row, however, one of the players was nice enough to switch seats so Analee and I could sit together. Turned out, the boy switching seats just wanted to sit next to a girl he liked on the track team. Go hormones! Having hardly slept, we arrived back in Carolina the next morning. As soon as the vacation was over, I wanted to go back!

Anza Borrego Part X - The Never Ending Highway

After nine long, cold, wet, dirty, hungry and tiring (i.e., wonderful!) days, it was finally time leave Anza Borrego and head towards civilization. While sad to leave the park, the prospect of a shower that didn’t require me to feed coins into it every 2 minutes was too much. Plus, I promised that Analee would get to see and touch the Pacific Ocean, and the fact we had a plane to catch…boo!

One Last Look at Agua Caliente

Having taken complete advantage of the pool the night before, we did not stay long in Agua Caliente that morning. Analee broke camp in record speed…she must have been looking forward to using a restroom that did not have a spider around every corner. It was probably good that we didn’t dilly dally or I would have gotten all sentimental about the campground and the good times I’ve had there the last 28 years. So, we donated all of our left over camping supplies (i.e., propane, aluminum foil, etc.) to the other campers by leaving them in our trusty CFC Styrofoam cooler at the indoor pool. Those coolers may wreak havoc on the environment, but you can’t beat the price and convenience! Having rid ourselves of all perishables, we headed out of camp for lunch in a now snow-free Julian.

Goodbye, My Old Friend.

While a few days late, we did finally get apple pie in Julian at Mom’s Apple Pie store. Had a nice lunch of homemade sandwiches and hot coffee (although the snow was gone, it was still bleeding cold up there). I remember the restaurant being crowded, and people jockeying and fighting for position at the register to have their order taken. As I heard people complain about lines, and cutting, I missed the desert already. What is the rush, people? The country restaurant also had community tables, and we sat next to a couple with their two tots. The mom apologized for their kids mess and rambunctious behavior…I nodded and smiled. I should have said, “they are two years old, let them be two.” I didn’t. I don’t like confrontation, plus my opinion, while I think is right, others would disagree 100% with. Oh well. I’m sure I’ll forget all my opinions when we have children.

Chock full of pie and java, we began the decent into to the Pacific basin towards Escondido, my grandparents old town. Yet again, I was amazed at the quick topographic, climate and vegetative transition from the desert, through the mountains and down to the coastal plain. From cactus to navel oranges in 25 miles! We also passed the San Diego Wild Animal Park...we should have stopped. Best zoo ever!

I can Almost Taste Those Oranges!

We stopped briefly in Escondido for fuel and were sorely disappointed. The entire town has gone to the dogs make that perros. I thought we took a wrong turn and were in Northern Mexico. My grandparents’ old apartment complex was covered in “gangsta” graffiti, while “chollos” or hood rats congregated on street corners. My grandpa would have had a fit. Don’t worry, I had one for him. Seeing the town decimated, we headed out towards Doheny State Park, our intended stay for the night…

After passing through another useless immigrant checkpoint on Interstate 5, we neared Doheny and the heavens began to open up again. We just couldn’t catch a break. I for one was not going to sleep in the rain one more night, so we decided to skip out on our reservation. I could tell Analee was upset because we weren’t going to be sleeping on the beach, but the weather had quite literally rained on my parade. Thus, we began our drive up the never ending highway…Pacific Coast Highway (PCH).

The Never Ending Highway

I want to go on the record right now that PCH should not be called a “highway” because highways DO NOT have street lights!!! For some reason I was panicky that day, and all those stop lights, plus the insane amount of traffic was causing my stomach to churn. I was probably stressed because we now had no “reserved” place to stay. Like it’s that hard to find a hotel room in Los Angeles, well…

Still plodding up PCH in the drizzle, or fog, or whatever it was (my sister, Amy, would call it gunky-ick-poo), we came to a standstill in Laguna Beach. This place was a fuster cluck unlike any I’ve ever seen. While we were stuck in traffic, Analee informed me that MTV has/had a show based in Laguna Beach, hence, now the place was a major tourist spot for teenage hos, I mean girls. Trapped at one light, we saw two girls, who I kid you not, were overflowing out of their clothes. One poor girl must have been a size 18 squeezed into a 6. Her belly was boiling over her mini skirt, while her thighs looked like two pigs fighting over a corncob. Her face was painted up like a trollop, and her upper body was squeezed like a sausage into a tiny graphic tee appropriately labeled “Juicy”. I understand that it’s teen rebellion, but when I was a teen, girls rebelled with baggy shirts, pitch forked hair and stirrup tights, while boys wore flannel shirts and backwards baseball caps. We may have looked retarded, but at least we didn’t look like prostitutes. Enough ranting…

Ana's First View of the Pacific

Finally out of Laguna Beach, we continued northward, like so many of our Illegal Mexican friends, in the search of food and shelter in the Los Angeles basin. Amazingly, the remainder of the drive was uneventful. We finally rolled into Los Angeles about six hours after we left Anza. Should have been 3 hours, but hey, we were on vacation! Now, the search for a hotel began. While looking for a hotel, I realized that I had never paid attention to where hotels were near my old stomping grounds, Palos Verdes. Since I wasn’t a “player” in high school, I had no idea where a cheap place to stay was…that was a joke. After being turned away from several hotels (one of them I know was because I was dirty…undesirable to the rich Iranian running the counter), we found a Days Inn at the foothills of Palos Verdes. The place was expensive, the room was a touch, um, gross, but there was a bed and hot water. It was a palace as far as I was concerned. Topped off from a $10 meal for two at the Mexican Riviera (best Mexican food in the world, just don’t order a “wine-a-rita”), we snuggled and fell asleep in a warm, dry bed.

UP NEXT - Part XI - Green Sticks & Slippery Rocks