*I wrote this BEFORE Portland and WELL BEFORE Seattle.**Now we're IN Seattle and Brian has TWO posts on me -- SHIT.
***Now I am like, so over 2pac. On to 2pac.
So 2pac visited me in a dream.
”Ben, you need to tell people what L.A. is really like,” he says.
“You’re dead,” I say.
“You’ve been chosen to give birth to the anointed daughter of the lord,” he says.
Now, I’m no expert on the language of West Coast 90’s rap, but I think our friend was trying to say that L.A. weather is truly the most incredible weather in the United States of America in the history of the world (Southern Ca overall, but for the sake of hyperbolic storytelling – and 2pac’s love of hyperbolic storytelling – L.A. and only L.A.).
Allow me to transition poorly into a discussion regarding heat lamps. L.A. has heat lamps at any number of restaurants. Heat lamps are located outside and activated in the event (off chance event) that the moderate SoCal temperature falls to a chilly 65. Brrrrrrr. I’m glad I don’t have to put on my bulky, SoUnhip sweatshirt!
SoUnhip like SoCal. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. Lots and lots of laughter.
As Brian, Tam (more on Tammy soon), and I sipped our margaritas looking out over the pacific, heated by lamps, I felt certain we had reached a final destination in life: a beautiful, sun-drenched utopia marked by attractive people wearing sunglasses not unlike face masks.
But then I remembered we would be traveling to Minneapolis in a week. Hey Andrew, I want a gym and a Mojito when we arrive. That’s a drink they serve in L.A. That’s a drink I can’t afford to miss.
They probably serve Mojito’s everywhere.
Alright, what else? I’m losing steam as I travel on a train through Oregon. There’s snow all around and I don’t really want to think about the weather in L.A. as I watch the cascades cascading through the cascade or something. Shut up conductor. Shut up Dr. Bayliss. Shut up Mom and Dad in our stupid pink living room. Shut up everyone about the stupid cascades I can’t see through the stupid abundant evergreens.
But I digress. Tammy is a relative – so like, a cousin or something out West. Not only is she blonde, smart, and the type to crack liberal jokes about unions and sweat shop labor (classic) – she also owns an acoustic guitar. And talks about things like the club scene. And intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBM’s – if you don’t know now you know). And goes to bars. Bars? Turn my life upside down! Why do we have a liberal blonde relative in L.A. who knows what a Mojito is?
I have no idea, but I know what a Mojito is.
And I am thankful Tammy allowed two unshowered travelers into her home. She also showed us around L.A. Thanks Tammy (not the sailor statue)! My parents are boring compared to you!
Just kidding Mom and Dad. Just kidding Dr. Bayliss.
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