Here lies the record of the reunion trip to California taken by Natalie, Bailey, Chris, and David.
That blessed monday morning arrived, and despite managing to have only slept about three hours due to prior mothers day festivities and a severe packing anxiety attack that hit me over the head around 1:47 ante meridian, I was up and ready for the adventure CALI-FORN-I-A. But it's only California, right? Nothing out of the usual. Not so. This time, I was going with my three best college friends, with little itinerary of where we were going and how we were getting there, once we stepped off of our respective airplanes at LAX.
And step off our airplanes we did. David and I flew in from Phoenix, and Chris and Bailey from Boise. While David and I arrived around 11ish, their connecting flight somehow became canceled, leaving us with an eight hour or so wait for them. Now this wait could have provided us with some major exploration fun, but David had two beastly bags. Lugging them around was not an option. Instead, we sat in the International terminal and notecard drawing, people watching, i spy playing, much needed back massages-ing , and monome-ing became the alternative.
Finally I heard Bailey's voice. The scoundrels showed up and our adventure officially began! We took a cab down to the ever lovely Venice Beach, home of Muscle Beach {I thought that only existed in Bikini Bottom!} and a whole 'lotta culture. Off we went to play in the ocean, leaving our troubles and our bags behind. Dun dun dunnnn, after thirty minutes or so of pure bliss, back up the bank we went to find MY bag gone. Yep, my bag stolen. Gone. Forever. :(. Fortunately, it only carried clothes, a retainer, and a phone charger. Not to mention that the bag itself cost me nothing {holla for free giveaways from Navoh!}. It made the sacrifice for two macbooks, a nice nikon camera, and everyone's wallets. Following the robbery, we walked up and down the path meeting some very interesting people. One including a longboarding man named Gus, who kindly showed us his marijuana, but only after the cops drove by. Passing on his ever convincing last line "i smoke it for my medicine, i eat it for my food, i live it for my religion", we left Gus {who surprisingly was a truly nice, funny, respectful, caring guy} for the bus. An hour later and we arrived to L.A. Union Station. The most gorgeous piece of architectural work there ever was! I was in heeavveenn. I am grateful we did not have a car solely so I could experience it's awesomeness.
{love this picture}
Can you guess what I'm spelling? Poly... (gamy). Our little crew's nickname... Apparently Chris is the patriarch, David is the trophy wife, Bailey is the child bearer, and I am the cleaner. I think it suits us all quite nicely.
Chris acquired the nickname Crisco because we would find ourselves saying, "where'd Chris go?" seemingly every five seconds. This kid just wanders off all the time.
The four of us eventually boarded the metro headed for Santa Clarita. Our time on the metro spurred the creation of our imaginary British band all thanks to the creative geniuses of Chris and David. Really though, on and on they went, one detail bouncing off the next. It was quite comical really. According to the boys, the band {entitled something about green apples if I'm remembering right?} was nothing more than a hostile environment for the four of us. Where David and Chris were constantly fighting-- Chris always getting the credit while David remained in the shadows-- drumma' girl Bailey sporting the pigtails atop her head who ended up finding success orating motivational speeches, and Natalie "drinking, fighting, and @#$% all night-ing" {cue Natalie Portman's SNL digital short} all while strumming away on the bass. Oh man, I'm laughing just thinking about it all. Finally "the band" reached our next concert tour stop where we were greeted by our devoted fans. Or men puking in the bushes rather... Poor guys. Chris's uncle Chad so graciously picked us up and welcomed us into his home!
And that was the end of day one.
!!!
