RoadTrip: Gonzo Adventures to Coachella Music Festival & Back
Table of Contents:
1.We’re In Bat Country Now
2.Partyin It Up At The Mansion
3.Delinquent Rogues Don’t Pay For Tickets
4.Mansion Party Revisited
5.Call The Exterminator, I’ve Got An Unwanted Bed Bug
6.Coachella Festival Freakiness
7.I’ve Found That You Can Find âÂ?¦ Happiness In Slavery
8.Breathe With Me
9.Deescalating The Madness
10.Fueled By Energy Drinks, Coffee, a British Accent, and Nature
1. We’re In Bat Country Now
Friday, April 29th, 10:30pm
Friday, 11pm
Let the randomness begin! After driving past enormous bats through four hours of treacherous mountain terrain, I’m officially in Indio – the Desert – going to meet LA Clem’s brother Alex, whom I’ve never met. Who knows when Clem will arrive? I’ve been told he’s classically late. Strangely enough, things didn’t even feel weird at all. It was like the drunken time I wandered into the wrong apartment in Geneseo and was casually greeted by four unsurprised shroomheads. “Heyyyyy how’s it goinnnnn? Want some shrooooooms?” they had remarked. Alex and his roommate Fito were very chill guys who invited me in without hesitation.
2. Partyin It Up At The Mansion
Saturday, April 30th
By 2:30am we migrated onto the real party zone – turns out Clem and JL had rented out a Professional Golf Association Tournament condo right on the golf course! This place was a freakin MANSION! Three bedrooms, Jacuzzi, ensuite bathrooms, a pool, a lake, palm trees, a fireplace, fully stocked kitchen – HOOKED UP! I still couldn’t believe Clem had invited me here on this crazy adventure – it was SO nice of him!!
There was a considerable amount of waiting involved while parking permits were obtained but it was well worth the wait. When the party broke loose, things got wild. Everything was readily available at little or (mostly) NO cost: Coke, pure MDMA, Weed, Opium, Hash, Shrooms, Vicodin, Oxycontin, Valium. Day 1 I stuck to the basics – beer, beer and more beer.
I chatted with this David Spade-esque character Dennis and his shy friend Ely. I also talked with Fito on many occasions and Larry, this Pro Skater for Grind King and Blind. (He was so amazing! He would skate in the parking lot for the supermarket, eyes half closed, on no sleep at all, effortlessly landing 360s, nollies, indie kickflips and fakie tailslides!!)
We had a solid crew of 15-20. But I understood that this would be a really difficult weekend if I didn’t get any sleep in at all. So I flopped into a bed at 6:30am to catch a few hoursâÂ?¦ and within a half hour I was joined by Larry. For some reason it didn’t even seem weird. It was a fairly uneventful four hours of pseudo-sleepâÂ?¦ I wound up feeling like a little kid desperately trying to nap – you WANT to cuz you know it’ll feel good but you simply CAN’T. Your mind is racing and you’re wondering about what excitement you could possibly be missing, anticipating future events, caught up in the frenzy of a foreign situation. Curiosity stirs.
Saturday, 11am
I’m up and we slip out to Clem’s Aunt’s restaurant where Joanna (a self-absorbed and demanding Brit) ordered me an enormous drink – which was this strange concoction of beer, clamato juice, hot sauce, salt and pepper. I would never order such a thing, but somehow it just hit the spot on this twisted 85 degree morning. Joanna and Alini claim this drink cures all hangovers. I was willing to trust them on matters such as this. I tried the shrimp fajita and found it to be very satisfying. Even the Nachos were delightful. I met Clem’s younger brother Viktor too… my sister Alyssa would’ve had a crush on him for sure!
We had gotten slightly lost on the way to the restaurant, passing a palm tree farm with hundreds of rows full of enormous palms – there must have been THOUSANDS! What an amazing sight! It was almost worth the tensionâÂ?¦ I SO wanted to get photos, but given the irritable status of all the over-tired, starving kids in the car, I opted to keep my mouth shut and keep on driving, saving moments of self-indulgence for later. I found myself far less bothered by the situation than Joanna – entranced by my surroundings. I had never seen the desert before. To the right, auburn sand stretched on for miles, stopped only by the immense purple mountain range. Behind the palm tree farm, I noticed MORE mountains and we seemed to be enclosed by a rocky fortress, with the arid heat pounding down on us. It felt good thoughâÂ?¦ not TOO hot, not hard to breathe, not sweaty or stickyâÂ?¦ more like a hot sauna. “Remember to drink a lot of water,” Alini warned. “We ARE in the desert!”
As the day stretched on, I became increasingly restless and anxious. All I could think about was the set list. Who was playing When? I just needed to see The Chemical Brothers, Crystal Method, NIN and Prodigy. It’d be nice to catch Miss Kittn, Weezer, Armin Van Buuren, Josh Wink, Junkie XL and maybe New Order too. Fito let me look up a quasi-schedule via his cell phone’s internet but it only broke down the set list as far as who was playing what day, with no mention of time. The only one I really wanted to see Saturday was Crystal Method – everyone else was piled onto Sunday’s schedule. I had just seen CM this past year so I guess I could live without catching that set if need be. It seemed no one cared to go Saturday – party mode was still in full effect, we were on our second beer run, and the novelty of the PGA Mansion hadn’t worn off yet.
Sidenote: As fate would have it, Crystal Method was a no-show and Chemical Brothers were bumped up to a 1PM slot on Saturday. SHIIIIIIIIIT. Kill me.
3. Delinquent Rogues Don’t Pay For Tickets
Saturday, 8pm
I kept up my drinking after breakfast and watched Larry bust trick after trick flawlessly while the crew picked up some BBQ stuff from the supermarket. At about 8pm, Alini, Joanna, Dennis, this guy Adrian and I were getting antsy to go to the festival any ways. But none of us had tickets. $80 for four hours hardly seemed worth it. The guys assured us sneaking in was a piece of cake – in fact, they do it every single year.
Part of me was thinking about my early aversion to Danger – how when I was little my cousin Amy would scale fences, climb up trees, jump off high concrete embankments and run like hell if necessaryâÂ?¦ while I watched disapprovingly, feeling nervous and everything BUT confident about my ability to follow her path. I was an inexperienced Rookie. If I were in an action movie, I’d be the first person to go down. This was not my gig.
Yet the curiosity got to me. Could we really pull this off? Adrian – our fearless leader – assured me there’d be NO fence jumping or high risk situations. “Just crawl under the fence and follow me,” he instructed.
It sounded simple enough – except we ran into another group of rogues and 10 people cramming underneath a fence and into the dense brush, which wasn’t exactly subtle. That, and the fact that I somehow got pushed in BEFORE Adrian. Where the hell was I going? I couldn’t see anything besides one of the other rogues pushing in next to me, stumbling forward, trying to hack away at the thick branches to make a path. “Just go straight forward,” Adrian instructed.
“Straight forward” was a thick intangible mass of bulky branches that even a skilled Cambodian soldier armed with a machete couldn’t penetrate. Fuck this, I thought. I’m not going first. I’m waiting for Adrian. Shit, maybe I’ll just go back out and find an alternate route. This is NOT the clear path I was promised.
I was now at the end of the line but I never saw Adrian. The others were in front of me, pushing, breaking branches, stumbling, whispering in the darkness. Then we heard it.
“DON’T MOVE.”
It was an authoritative bark that made the hairs on our arms stand up – even in 90 degree weather. I saw a beam of light slightly miss us. Had they seen us? Or just heard us? How many of them were there? Was it local security or police? Could we outrun them?
Nobody moved, spoke, or even breathed. Seconds stretched on forever. I felt like we were in a movie that had suddenly gone horribly wrong. Perhaps if we didn’t move, they’d run past us and we could continue on. Maybe they’d get distracted by other fugitives and we could break free. Then security was behind me.
“Come on out of there. You guys shouldn’t have made so much damn noise.”
The voice wasn’t hostile. But I still wasn’t sure what our “strategy” was. I figured if someone else booked and distracted the guard for a split second, I’d probably take off in the opposite direction and head for a safe spot in the parking lot until I could find a better way in. Although, the way my luck was going tonight, I prayed no one would flee the scene. But generally, the overall mood was one of “shit we got caught” and no one was going anywhere.
We surrendered our IDs and were told that we’d be let off with a warning if we cooperated. One smartass from the other group copped an attitude about giving up his ID and the police came to speak to him – but they were very nonchalant about the whole deal. They chuckled about the fact that we were all over-age and encouraged us to purchase a ticket for Sunday.
The two Vicodin I recently downed had me feeling rather apathetic and austere. Dennis laughed at my cold-hearted expression as security verified my information. I was one of those sexy detective bitches with the tight black dress, black sunglasses, black hat and cigarette in one hand – total Marla Singer tradition. I didn’t find you worth looking at when I spoke to you, and my tone was Flat and Unapologetic – but with a subtle touch of Napolean Dynamite Irritation when you asked me the same question twice. GOSH! I rolled my eyes and threw my cigarette right at his feet as if to say “fuck off I’m too cool for this”.
One of our shit-for-brains competitors had a super annoying voice – like Courtney Love strung out on crack and losing her voice âÂ?¦ while screaming into a megaphone. She told the cops her whole life story and a play-by-play of their subsequent capture. Didn’t she just know when to shut up?
The worst part was that Adrian was still nowhere to be found – and he was our ride. Turns out he made it in – as did Larry, Clem, JL, and a few other seasoned veterans. This would mean 2 hours of parking lot hell. In the background of my paranoid mind, beneath the Detective Bitch persona, I still wondered: Did Adrian set us up?? Was this the ultimate betrayal?
I looked longingly at the Porto potties. I was about to piss myself, but I didn’t want to walk to the truck alone – and it was obvious everyone was too pissed to stop. We were on a mission. And that mission was finding the truck amid the thousands of other vehicles in the never-ending lot. Spirits were numb. My thoughts were blank but the overall sense of humiliation and neophyte embarrassment was still thereâÂ?¦ somewhere.
Time slipped by quickly. The parking lot was a dust bowl but we managed to seek refuge by opening the back cab of the truck where we could nap a bit.
Adrian had made it inside by sneaking left, protected by Porto potties on one side and the dense brush on the other, slipping over a small embankment and in alongside the polo horse stalls. It all seemed so obvious now. However, I fail to see how “Left” is “Straight”. I felt pissed underneath all the VicodinâÂ?¦ in some weird way I knew this even though I couldn’t feel it.
4. Mansion Party Revisited
Monday, May 2nd 1am
When we got back to the mansion, we smoked ourselves retarded and drank some more. Some indulged in Coke – I, of course, passed – but opted for several free caps of pure MDMA. Clem felt so bad he wanted to “make it up to us”. We figured – early on – that this would be the caseâÂ?¦ and I think that distant thought of partying up at the Mansion and attending the Festival tomorrow – was the only thing that kept our spirits in tact.
The MDMA was wonderful and the peak was smooth. Everything was such an adventure. Every room presented new people, new moods, and new fun. I had lengthy chats with most everyone and felt closely bonded with the group. It was so incredulous to everyone that we had mostly all JUST met. Random people showed up to chill – which JL confided to me – was not cool. But disagreements between Clem and JL were set aside for the sake of the party.
We laid on cozy patio chairs outside, watching the orange sun rise over the golf course lake on a sugar coated day. The neighbor’s mysterious cat came over and befriended me – it was a gorgeous but freaky PURPLE cat like I had never seen before – with emerald eyes and exotic spots. We watched her interact with the world around her and taunt the pit bulls inside (who later chased her up in a tree). I also converted Fito into a coffee lover.
I met some interesting characters from England. One guy Marcus – who had a very exuberant energy about him – told me he was looking to marry a gorgeous American girl and we could trade citizenship. He was tough to read and my only natural reaction was to grin like a Cheshire cat and laugh it off. “Just think about it, Love,” he said with a thick, dramatic accent. “Keep it in mind, is all I’m askin!” Wink. Strange! His equally British friend Julian happened to be going Northwest after the festival as well – so suddenly I had a traveling companion! I was ecstatic.
People danced on a ledge between the dining and living rooms, which was dubbed “The Stripper Stage” – a platform I avoided at all costs. And at one point, I remember looking over and everyone suddenly had their socks off and were meshing feet together, laughing and yelling “Foot fetish! Foot fetish!” I didn’t even ask. While my high wasn’t quite as raucous, I enjoyed the meaningful connections with real people on this truly awesome adventure. I enjoyed talking to Clem’s cousin David too – because he just had an overall carefree and good-natured vibe, his smile always making me smile.
5. Call The Exterminator, I’ve Got An Unwanted Bed Bug!
Sunday, 9am
Finally at 9am, I felt it’d be a good call to get in at least a few hours sleep before our raucous festivities later. I plopped next to Ely in an available spot and hoped he wouldn’t mind too much. It was rather audacious of me, but that just seemed to be the trend of the weekend – people just sleeping at random times, for random hours, in random locations. Ely stuck around for another 2 Ã?½ hours any ways.
When I woke up, I felt a body nestling against me and an arm was suddenly situated around my shoulder. I felt panicked – who could be so BOLD? I thought maybe if it were Larry or David it would be OK because emotions wouldn’t get tangled up and there’d be no real expectations or next day awkwardness.
But noâÂ?¦ it was in fact Dennis, the funny short David Spade lookalike. Sure we had hours of conversation outside – but that was all it was! I talked to Fito, Larry, JL, David, the Brits and others just as much throughout the night. Surely he couldn’t mistake my sociable nature for symptoms of a crush! I had a clear flashback to one particular expression Dennis had made that really yelled out, “You are my dream girl!” It was one of those cartoon moments where you can see sparkle-stars in someone’s eyes. At the time, I had opted to find Fito immediately as a point of Safety and avoid the whole charade entirely.
I suddenly started to feel that familiar wave of anger. WhatâÂ?¦ theâÂ?¦ Fuck. He was huddled absurdly close to me and kept squirming to somehow get closer. His head was ON the back of my head. His hand was stroking my clammy arm. I couldn’t breathe because he was suffocating my personal space. MDMA is NOT a license to cuddle people I’m not attracted to. I never thought I’d hate cuddling, but this was now the case as the resentment rose within me. OK, so maybe he’s nice, funny, educated, conversational, WhateverâÂ?¦ but let’s face it: $200 does not buy you a condo on the beach; nor does a few dime-a-dozen personality traits buy my affection.
After about ten minutes of this awkwardness, I knew I could NOT put up with this. Nor would any more sleep be had. Three hours would have to do. I got up quickly, uttering an involuntary sigh of disapproval, and snagged my hairclip off the nightstand, glancing down just long enough to catch his surprised expression. I first went into the ensuite bathroom to piss. I then walked back through the room and promptly out the door. I didn’t look directly at him but I could feel his gaping stare, I could feel his disbelief and hurting pride. He had anticipated a cuddlefest. I had reacted surprisingly cold and hostile. Things would be forever weird from now on.
I went outside to my car to find something to wear and walk off my annoyance, taking a moment to breathe and remember where I was – gorgeous warm sunny California. The sun made me feel better. Then Dennis is outside in a flash – for some godforsaken reason wearing a towel. “Are you leaving?” he inquires in a panic.
“No.” I answered curtly. “I’m getting something.”
He looked dazed and confused. I dug through my bag, without looking back at him – it was all I knew to do unless he directly questioned my instinctual reactions – in which case I would happily put my queasiness into words for him. But after a few moments of gauche hesitation, he went back to bed. I’m not sure if he half-expected me to return after my shower – but in any case, I did not.
When Dennis woke up, he came into the room and looked at me very blankly with dark undertones. I sat on the couch among Joanna, Clem, Alini, and David, finding it exceedingly difficult to make eye contact, sensing the pent up anger alongside his confusion, disappointment and wounded ego.
For the rest of the trip we rarely spoke to one another, spare for a dramatic exit scene where he came into the bedroom Monday morning to sleep – but I was up and out before he could even fully slip under the covers. He opened his arms and said, “Can I have a hug? – In case I don’t see you when you leave?” I mumbled something about being grimy – which I was – and needing a shower. DE-NIED. In the end, I poked my head in the room, waved and flatly said, “C-Ya.” By now there was no mistaking my intentions. He let me go without a protest.
Sunday, Noon
Back to Sunday. People were milling around – some like Clem and David were temporarily passed out on the couch. I made some coffee and chatted with Adrian about his successful guerilla tactics, hoping to learn something useful. I laughed at David as he opened one eye, looked at me, then buried his face into the pillow. “Everytime you see me, I’m in the same spot! I own this real estate!” he laughed. I remarked that it was like Monopoly, where people would have to pay him every time they wanted to sit in “his spot”. Larry had the blunt already sparked and nodded at me to sit by him.
6. Coachella Festival Freakiness
Sunday, 6pm
I caught a ride with Adrian, Alini, Joanna and Fito to the Festival. Adrian had promised to get us in legitimately free because he had a friend that he ran into yesterday who worked security and agreed to hook us up. Only this friend was nowhere to be found so everyone said Fuck It and bought a ticket. Alini and Joanna eagerly got their tickets and went in; Fito and Adrian decided to wait for other people and hold off for possible free tickets; that left me abandoned, on my own.
Even though I was used to being on my own for much of this journey, I felt so lost, strange and overwhelmed. I looked around me at the thousands of different characters. I had no real agenda so I figured I’d find a set list, then find a new friend. I had 2 hours before NIN came on so I drifted to the Techno tent to see sassy electro diva Miss Kittn.
I suddenly really had the urge to call up my friend Ryan and let him listen in on the set since he loves Miss Kittn and her flat “I wanna beâÂ?¦ a por-no starâÂ?¦” vocals. It felt wrong to be there without him – since I’m sure he would’ve enjoyed it more than me. Miss Kittn sang live through a mic while mixing beats that ranged from breaks to 80s house to trance to gritty electro. In the daylight, her spectators flopped erratically like decapitated chickens pumped full of growth hormones and steroids. I even avoided dancing because I wondered, “Will I just look like another wacked weirdo?? No one here dances like meâÂ?¦ I’m not high enough for this.”
The crowd couldn’t have been more diverse and suddenly I found myself thrust into a classic rave scene in a movie – amongst crazy-dancing, weird-looking, toy-toting freaks. Where were all MY people? Was there not one person here I could relate to? Was there not one cute boy to dazzle me with his presence? The situation was looking hopeless. My insatiable wandering dragged on for hours. I was a thirst-stricken traveler wandering the desert for water. I was a junk-crazed junkie wandering the streets looking for a fix. Would I ever find what I was looking for? Have I become so superficially-charged that I’ve ruled out 99f the general Coachella population? Do only homely Californian rejects travel out to the desert for a good time?
I went from tent to tent and beer to beer with fervent intensity. Finally I broke my two hour silence by chatting with a black-haired, blue-eyed skater in a wheelchair. He told me they were giving away free packs of American Spirit nearby and that he was stuck in his cast for 5 more months. I wandered back to hear some Junkie XL and Armin Van Buuren (who spun a much better set at The Guv in Toronto), while also determining that the Dresden Dolls suck in ways beyond imaginable. Well you can try if you like – think of Goth Rock Show Tunes. Full on keyboard and female vocalist madness. Yeuuck.
7. I’ve Found That You Can Find âÂ?¦ Happiness In Slavery
Sunday, 9pm
Before I knew it, 9pm rolled around and I scavenged a decent left front spot – well, about 15 rows back – but I could see the stage and monitors well. I chatted with a semi-cute guy wearing the same army hat as me and noticed some flawless eye candy with a vibrant orange Mohawk and a very chiseled, Romanesque nose.
Trent came out wearing a white button down shirt – which seemed strange to everyone – but of course he ripped it off to reveal his usual black shirt later on. (Perhaps he had been mocking the whole 80s wave artists that dominated the fest?)
They played a lot of old favorites – “Hurt”, “Broken”, “March of Pigs”, “Happiness In Slavery”, “Closer”, and “Head Like A Hole” (for their finale). They also played a few songs off Fragile and their latest and greatest album.
Admittedly, I almost cried several times I was so moved by their performance. The emotion was there in full force and Trent was undoubtedly giving it 110%.The lighting and versatile quietness of Trent’s whisper and keyboard solos, contrasted by monumental buildups was exactly what I needed at this moment in time. Just to be a part of such an enormous crowd, listening to NIN on an outdoor stage, with monstrous speakers and superior sound – was well worth the $80 alone. Everyone was singing along and gazing at the stage with fulfilled admiration. I wished they could keep playing. I wished I didn’t have to make the mad dash all the way across the field to see Prodigy.I wished I knew where my friends were.
8. Breathe With Me
Sunday, 10:30pm
I pushed my way to the third row, slightly left, for Prodigy. Crammed into a smaller airplane hanger, the show was very much over-packed. I found myself fighting the need to dance, yet the need to see the stage. Could I find a happy medium?
After some chaotic squeezing and squishing to some gritty heavy music (which is not the optimal soundtrack to a Shrooms/MDMA peak), Jesse, a cute boy next to me helped me fight my way closer to the pit where I almost found enough space to move. I looked at him again and tried to gauge how old he was – bleach blonde hair, big brown eyes, labret piercing, tall, a touch of a goateeâÂ?¦ 20? I wished I had ran into him earlier when I was insatiably wandering, unable to stop. My cell phone was blowing up as Fito and Clem took turns calling to locate my whereabouts.
Prodigy was every bit as insane as I had hoped – Keith kept coming onto the speaker directly in front of me, waving his arms mysteriously and staring wide-eyed at the crowd. That was what struck me most about Keith Flint in person – he had these freaky ice blue eyes, framed in jet black eyeliner, that peered wildly and intensely right into your soul. He liked to fuck with the crowd and stare, inciting inner riots. I wasn’t digging his two long trains of bleach blonde hair though. I wished he had his classic, colorful, short reverse Mohawk. The black guy in the group now has really long dreddy hair; his white contacts gave him an uber-creepy, surreal, fictional appearance. Liam Howlett stood quietly, modestly – in the background, working all the beat dropping magic. They worked the crowd so fervently that everyone was simultaneously jumping for most of the show, hands in the air, screaming for more.
I was a little disappointed in “Firestarter”, picturing a big pyrotechnics show and outrageous lighting; however, due to space constraints we were royally gypped. Prodigy should have dominated the main stage for sure. They also added a cheesy fill-in that I didn’t care for. I was also disappointed to find that my camera ran out of pictures – right before Keith came within reach. I also had to accept the fact that now was actually an INopportune time to meet the band, as I did not drive and had to connect with my crew.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted as Jesse decided to kiss me without warning. The smitten boyish look on his face afterwards worried me. Maybe he WAS only 18, I thought. But he grabbed my shoulder and we jumped together, whisking my thoughts back to the current moment. YES, I was definitely having fun. I pushed claustrophobic worries out of my mind and rocked out to “Mindfields”, “Breathe”, “Firestarter”, several new tracks and the finale – “Smack My Bitch Up” – which sounds much more exciting live! Wicked time – well worth my money.
So Jesse and I talk âÂ?¦ he buys me a bottle of water, tells me how he’d drove down from Seattle. Finally I just blurted it out, ” How OLD are you?” Brace yourselves here. 16!!! My expression dropped as I stared at his ID in shameful disbelief. “It’s not that bad,” I heard him say – but it sounded warbled and a million miles away. What drugs are these kids taking that adds 5 years of wear & tear onto their faces and body proportions?! And what is wrong with me that I keep finding these young twerps? I tried not to think that he’s actually two years younger than my Vicki’s boyfriend and just one year older than Alyssa’s boyfriend. If you’re the age of my sister’s boyfriends, you’re TOO YOUNG! Whatever, I thought. I got a free water and some decent company out of the deal. That just made it easier for me – no dilemmas over asking Clem and JL if he could party with us, no agonizing over wanting to stay and hang out with him, no sexual pressures. Jesse was a write off.
9. Deescalating The Madness
Monday, May 2nd, Midnight
I randomly ran into David and hitched a ride home with him. We chatted a bit and he told me how he’s going to school for Sociology and I was relieved to hear he’s 26 and not 16, haha. It took us an hour to navigate the thick traffic out of the festival – Joanna and Alini crammed to my left, David squished on my rightâÂ?¦ we were a cozy bunch. Somehow a blanket appeared and we snuggled like baby puppies, exhausted and content.
When we got back, we proceeded to smoke ourselves retarded, as per usual. (Was there ever a moment I DIDN’T have a blunt in my hand??) We relaxed outside on the lounge chairs, passing the hours with comfortable conversation, and I stayed awake in time to see Clem, JL, Adrian and them return to the house with more beer. I started to drink one and passed out shortly after smoking this killer “extended family joint” – comprised of everything from Weed to Hash to Opium to Coke. I felt like all sounds were far away whispers, my eyelids were weighted, and I had tides of sensation passing up and down my arms and neck. Sleep was inevitable as a viable alternative to Madness.
I woke up three hours later to prepare myself for an entire day of driving. It was a nerve-wrecking thought.
10. Fueled By Energy Drinks, Coffee, a British Accent, and Nature
Monday, 6am
I felt Broken.
Everything felt all wrong.
I proceeded to drink my standard �½ pot of coffee.
I half expected Julian not to show up after he was 30 minutes late.
I was unsure if I could be awake or not.
Julian showed up after all and we left.
It was so wonderful taking an 8 hour drive with such a pleasant person – a pleasant 30 year old person with a British accent, fancy lingo and a job recording sound for various TV & movie spots, including MTV Cribs! Cool stuff! We chatted about music, changing scenes, career paths, relationships, scenery, our first visit to California, film, traveling and music again!
We stopped for some lunch along the way and I felt so much more awake than I had anticipated. I owe half my energy to Sobe Adrenaline Rush – what a WONDERFUL thing! I highly recommend.
Julian was going to his friend’s wedding in San Luis Obispo and introduced me inside. He was very grateful and even bought me lunch. Fun times or “Fuuuun Bobby” as Clem would say.
(I still haven’t figured out the story behind that hilariously curious phrase!)
After some minor deliberation, I decided to continue onto Santa Cruz, where my mom’s friend Kathlean lived. I’d have a place to stay and would be just a stone’s throw away from my final destination – the Oakland Airport.
Monday, 2pm
Words and photos can’t even begin to express the beauty of this drive. I’d cruise around a corner and be greeted rows of lush green foothills, trees, and rock walls on one side – the expansive ocean on the other side. The coastline snaked in and out, revealing new charisma with every turn. I almost felt devastatingly tired at one point – but as soon as I got onto Highway 1, rolled down the windows, cranked up The Used and came around a stunning corner – I was Reborn! My soul was lifted to new grounds perhaps never reached before and my elation was off the scale. I loved California and couldn’t believe there were places right in the United States this breathtaking. You haven’t really lived until you’ve seen such amazing sights. I feel so blessed to have traveled here. This is just what I needed. Four more hours slipped by like butter.
