I want to share with you all a story of a magical week which was surrounded by glorious events that still make me jealous I can’t go back in time and live it again. There is adventure, travel, donuts, rum, peacocks…what more could you want? By the end of this story you will either say, “Wow, what an entertaining story about a fun vacation.” Or you will say, “Wow, Amy is a hot mess and just wasted my time with this nonsense.” Either way…you’re welcome.
Let me give you a little background on me and my friend, Jamie. We went to high school together and were friends, but never hung out outside of school much. I lost touch with her after graduation as I did a lot of people when I moved to California. I moved back after a year and a half though. Apparently spending all of your money on vodka and massive impulse buys is not the path to success. Skip ahead to the night of my 21st birthday when I am back in NY. I was of course two hours late and already smashed. I pulled up with my boyfriend in his jeep and I looked to my right and saw, none other than Jamie. I looked like a crazed mime who had gone on a cocaine binge, pounding on the window of the car freaking out that she was there. Amy and Jamie were reunited, and I had to make a drunken confession to her. I am comfortable enough to admit Jamie was my girl crush. In our drunken haze we recalled stories from high school and admitted we were indeed girlfriend soul mates. It was pretty special. Our boyfriends didn’t seem to mind. She remains in my phone as ‘Jamie My Girlfriend’. Well, that’s a lie. On her birthday a couple years ago I changed it to ‘Jamie My Girlfriend The Birthday Girl’ and never changed it back. So congratulations Jamie, it is your birthday every day in my phone.
Onto our adventure. Jamie and I were both somewhat, slightly, extremely intoxicated in Syracuse New York when we planned out a trip to California. The next day the tickets got booked, the suitcases got packed, and the friends and family feared for our lives because of the events they knew would inevitably ensue. I got to Los Angeles a couple days before Jamie because of her work schedule. I had gotten a rental car and did my usual: You book the cheapest car, but when you get it search for anything possible that could be wrong with it after leaving the lot. If anything doesn’t work or even is just slightly inconvenient for you, take it back about an hour later. Complain saying you will never use their company for renting again and they will upgrade you for no charge. If you make a big enough deal out of anything, especially when there are other customers around, you get what you want. If anyone from Budget, Hertz, Enterprise or Dollar rental car services is reading; don’t worry I totally never did that to any of you. Or you can just flirt with the guy at the desk, either way works. So anyways, I picked her up at LAX with my brand new Mustang and we were ready for the week. By the way, one of the first things she saw in California was a “men working in trees” sign. Seeing such a ridiculous road work sign is in itself a sign; a sign of very ridiculous things to come.
We were heading down to San Diego to stay with my aunt for the majority of the trip and then we would head back up to LA for the last couple days to catch a show at The Groundlings and then fly back home the next day. Before heading to San Diego though, we decided to take a drive through Malibu and just enjoy the day. We drove up into the mountains on some sick roads with some amazing views. A little too amazing, seeing as how I almost drove us off of a cliff one or six times. After almost killing Jamie I figured I should pay her back by taking her to lunch. Its common courtesy; when you almost cause death, you buy lunch. Everyone knows this. So we went to this great Mexican place at the end of Santa Monica pier. I have been there almost a dozen times and I still could not tell you the name of it if my life depended on it. As we were walking down the pier we decided to check out the shops and some rides too. They were shooting a commercial at the pier which we kept walking through the area behind where they were shooting and they kept getting mad at us. Seriously, Jamie and I apparently cannot take direction from anyone. A deaf / blind 3 year old would have understood better than we did. They seemed to just give up on us after a while and allowed us to walk through eventually. So if you see a commercial at the Santa Monica pier and two confused girls wandering around aimlessly in the background, you’re welcome, and yes I will be signing autographs. Then, as we ate, the birds seemed to take on a very strong feeling towards Jamie. That feeling was summed up by them kamikaze bombing her as she attempted eating. She hovered over her food holding her knife like a serial killer looking like a paranoid crack head who had just sat down to her first meal in 8 years. She was not about to let one of those birds get at her Chimichanga. We escaped from dinner with no food having been eaten by the birds, and no birds having been slain by Jamie. I would say it was a success. Then we headed to San Diego. I figured within 20 minutes of getting there we’d be on the beach. Instead, somehow within 20 minutes of getting there I already had 2 parking tickets. I honestly can’t even tell you how that happened or when that happened. It’s like they just would appear on the windshield out of nowhere. San Diego must have little parking ticket nymphs that float around ruining people’s day. Either that or I just have a severe lack of an ability to read street signs. My money is on the nymphs.
Over the next few days we did exactly what we had planned on though. We laid in the sun, we drank, we ate, we drank, we napped, we swam…we drank. One of the nights after some drinks was where I discovered Jamie’s Russian Rodney Dangerfield impression which I will hereon refer to as R.R.D. After a few too many cocktails I decided I would enjoy some outdoor play time, being the 5 year old on the inside that I am. I found a short brick wall in the yard where I would balance on and walk across like a balance beam which took some insanely intense concentration. I started to get cocky here and there and try little tricks like I was one of those crazy talented Chinese midget gymnasts. But I was quickly reminded that I am instead, just a crazy clumsy Italian average height idiot. This was made clear by me falling directly on my ass seven times before giving up. Jamie was chilling in a tent outside in the yard and after each round on the beam I would walk back to the tent to peak in on Jamie. She would be eagerly awaiting my return and every time I looked in the tent she seemed more and more excited to see me. We were both obviously having a blast with this little ritual because it went on for a good 30 minutes I would say. Afterwards we were sitting on the ground and then it happened. In her newly discovered and accidental R.R.D voice Jamie said “wool”. Yes, wool. I do not know why she said it, where it came from, or where she intended on going with it, but she said it. And she said it just like a Russian Rodney Dangerfield would. I can’t explain how much I love to this day that I got to hear what Rodney Dangerfield would sound like if he came from Russia and was a sheep shearer.
The next day we went out for groceries for a bon fire we were going to have that night and we wanted to find donuts, headlights to be specific. Apparently they did not exist in San Diego though. We looked forever and it became one of those battles that is no longer even about the task at hand. I don’t know that we even wanted the donuts anymore; we just couldn’t let the donut gods win. But after two hours we had succumbed to defeat. We got a variety box of donuts and headed back to my aunt’s house for the fire. This night is mostly a blur for me but I do recall Jamie yelling at our neighboring fire pit friends because they had used our donuts to put them on the end of sticks and put them in the fire. Who does that? That is donut cruelty and Jamie was not about to stand for it. She let them have it, and rightfully so. They’re not marsh mellows people, get your snack foods straight.
(Parking ticket update: 1 more, totaling 3 so far. Damn parking ticket nymphs)
The next day we headed to the zoo which is always great. There is always a peacock wandering around the zoo and I always try to pet him, but he is tricky! Also, I’m about as graceful as Shaquille O Neal would be attempting Swan Lake in figure skates so it never goes well. Aside from the visual of me chasing a peacock around the zoo knocking shit over the whole time add in the audio of me yelling, “Jamie! I’m gonna get him! I almost got him! Jamie! Look! I almost got him! Jamie! Loooooook!” You would have thought I was that 5 year old kid with ADHD trying to get my mom’s attention and that Jamie was the neglective mom who was off somewhere smoking cigarettes flirting with the zoo maintenance guy. Needless to say, it was a great day and we took a ton of pictures. Now that I think of it I still haven’t sent her the pictures she asked for from that day. (Keep in mind this trip happened roughly 2 years ago. My bad Jamie. I promise I will send them…soonish.)
After an excellent few days in San Diego it was time to head back up to LA. The hotel was amazing that we were staying at. It was a huge room, a couple of TV’s, big kitchen, big mini bar (yes I see the irony), it was all so nice but we had to get ready quickly. So we did, and then called a cab and were on our way. The show was amazing as it always is at The Groundlings. (Now that I’m a student there I will suck up a bit) After it was over we decided we were close enough to the hotel to walk. We were not. Well, maybe we were, but we got so lost who knows where we were. We made the logical decision to find a liquor store before we go any further and buy a bottle of Malibu. (Rule to live by: When lost and in despair, locate nearest liquor store and the world will once again be ok) So we brown bagged it around some pretty sketchy areas until we finally called a cab. The cab asked where to and when we told him he laughed at us and literally drove us around the corner and we were there. See, rum will always lead you home. Jamie tipped the cabbie which infuriated me that she would tip for such a short ride. Sorry for yelling, Jamie, I have some rage issues when it comes to tipping cab drivers apparently. I’ll seek help.
(Parking ticket update: I lost count after 3.)
The next morning I woke up to the sound of the blow dryer coming from the bathroom. Jamie was in the process of trying to dry off her phone which she had dropped in the toilet. It was a sad morning. She had killed her phone, and we were packing up to leave this beautiful hotel room and also leave California. We spent the day around LA and then headed to the airport for a red eye. We were exhausted from a crazy trip and just wanted to get on that plane and sleep. But of course, we had one last obstacle. This obstacle happened to come in the form of a giant Mexican lady who was in one of our seats on the plane. She spoke no English and when I told her it was my seat she just kept shaking her head saying no acting confused. But I think she spoke more English then she let on. Because when she was saying no, she was saying it with a very strong tone. With that one word she was basically saying, “I know exactly what you’re saying little white girl. I am going to act like I don’t though because I want this window seat. So you can take your little ass and plop it down in the middle seat.” Seriously, you could hear her saying all this just by how she said “no”. It was impressive actually. Finally a flight attendant came over after my attempt at translation didn’t work. She didn’t seem to respond to me saying “You in my seat-o. Move-o before I have you kicked off the plane-o.” She reluctantly moved to her seat, the aisle one, with the help of the flight attendant and Jamie and I took the window and middle seats. I took the middle one being the good friend that I am. I pissed off the old Mexican mule so I might as well have to deal with sitting next to it. As hard as I tried to sleep it wasn’t happening due to the mule keeping her light on all night flipping through some sleazy Mexican tabloid magazine with super glossy pages reflecting the light directly into my eyes. Thanks mule. None the less, off we went, back to New York. Although Jamie and I were convinced for a solid 15 minutes they were going the wrong way and we would be in Japan when we woke up. Thankfully when we woke we were still in America. The pilots apparently knew better than we did. Weird I know.
I can honestly say this was the best trip I have ever been on. Now, as I leave you, I will ask that you play me out with a theme song. Imagine in your heads ‘Paper Planes’ by MIA, as it was our theme song for the trip which we listened to roughly 13,006 times. (I also just really like the idea of exiting or entering things with a theme song.) Jamie was a specialist at the chorus doing the gun shots perfectly and always spitting clear across the car while doing so. So hit that beat and do the gun shots in the chorus with me while you practice your very own R.R.D.
Wool.
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