The stretch of road between Big Sur and San Luis Obispo is the most beautiful and treacherous drive in the world, and we drove it three times. First we drove two hours to Hearst Castle, which was much more of a tourist draw than we had expected, and fully booked for the necessary tour. So we watched a movie about it, and drove back. The hippies were gone and the only people we had to hang out with were the guys next door, two stoner cousins who argued constantly, albeit in very slow, drawling motion. It was equal parts horrible and addicting, hanging out with them.
I opted for sleeping in Tinie Tempah that night and it was far more comfortable than the tent, and the next morning we packed up and hit the road. Courtney was getting anxious because we had at least a four hour drive to Santa Barbara, and it didn't sit well with her when, after changing my outfit three or four times to no avail, I realized that what I
really needed was a shower.
"But it costs twenty five cents for five minutes!" I yelled as Courtney tried to physically pull me back by my towel out of the stall. "And I only have a quarter! YOU do the math!"
"Fine!" She let me go and I tumbled in. "But I'll be waiting in the car directly outside the shower building. No changing outfits after this, no makeup, nothing! You have
five minutes."
"Understood!" I called back as I popped two quarters into the slot. And twelve and a half minutes later I had a hastily wrapped towel turban on my head and was running out to catch Tinie Tempah as he was beginning to be driven out of the park. My hair looked like a Chia Pet for the next three days.
The day before had been foggy and increasingly dark and eerie as we got closer to Hearst Castle. The energy around San Luis had reminded me of the area of the Dali House in Cadaques, all ominous clouds and still sailboats and surrealism lingering in the air. But now the drive was bright and sunny, and despite her hurry Courtney could not resist stopping for a few more photo opportunities, each one executed like a drill; "Beautiful! Take the picture! Now, back in the car! Go, go!"
It was after one such opportunity that we heard a thump. I looked back to see my camera bouncing down the road.
"What was that?" Asked Courtney.
"Nothing," I said. "Could we pull over at this next scenic vista?"
The moment we did, I turned and ran as fast as I could back up the highway. I came galloping back with camera in hand, towel turban unwrapping on my head, scarf waving in the wind, strapless dress sliding down my front. A more typical scene was never enacted; Courtney was doubled over in laughter.
"We really need to be keeping a trip log," I said.
It would have had another entry after the gas station in San Luis, where I was so nervous about taking too long a time that I dashed in to the bathroom and dashed out, buying a three dollar salad for lunch on the way. It was after I ate my salad that I realized that my cell phone and camera, which had been in my lap before the gas station stop, were nowhere to be found.
I rummaged in the glove compartment and around my feet. I rummaged in the little crevices to my right and left. I took a rather nonchalant look over my shoulder at the backseat.
"What are you looking for?" Courtney asked.
"Nothing," I said. Then I made another rather nonchalant rummage in the cupholders.
Courtney's not stupid, but we both knew that there was no point in wasting energy on an altercation until we knew the full extent of the situation. Thus, there was a tense silence for the next fifteen miles or so, until we finally found a suitable exit with ample parking lots. For the second time that day I made a mad dash out of the car, with prayers that I would find my belongings.
They had somehow gotten tucked deep within my suitcase in the trunk of the car during the previous gas station visit. Courtney, to her credit, made no comment. It was then that I began to grow very appreciative of her as a travel buddy; I don't know how the hell
I would put up with me for seven days straight.
Thankfully, that was the last brush with absurdity on that day, and it served somehow to clear the air and lighten the mood, so that by the time we were nearing Santa Barbara we were in jovial spirits and stopped at El Capitan beach where we sunbathed and saw seals and dolphins playing in the water. Then we promenaded around the beautiful downtown and basked in the increasingly quintessential California-ness until my dear dear dear friend Barbara was out of work and it was time for an epic reunion. We stayed at her apartment, complete with her feisty cat Olive, who had it in for Courtney from the start. There may or may not have been an episode of urination on the aforementioned's sleeping bag.
Anyhoo, the reunion was epic indeed and we celebrated by drinking lots of wine and going out to an Argentinian restaurant, where there were glittery and bare-bummed dancers and lone drunk men who were easily coerced up on stage to conga with them. We ate and drank well and tottered back down the sidewalks to Babs' apartment, where the episode of urination then transpired. Because Barbara's actual name is Cat, our re-telling of the story to a friend in L.A. led him to think that it was Cat herself who peed on Courtney's bag.
"How drunk
was she?" He asked.
So anyway, it was an excellent night and surreally fabulous to catch up with the first of my beloveds from my USC years. I braced myself for a return to crazy, overwhelming L.A. in the morning.
We thought Santa Nella was a mirage. It seemed impossible that after all that unending dirt and olive groves there could be a town with a Subway, and a Holiday Inn, and gas stations, and Denny's, and Roy Rogers, and Andersen's Pea Soup, and Motel 6, and even a Korean War Memorial. We got extremely over-stimulated driving in and weighing all our possibilities, and Courtney got over-excited and booked us a room at the swanky Hotel de Oro instead of the Motel 6, and we made big plans to go to Andersens Pea Soup and then the bar and then the pool, but instead we went to Subway and Roy Rogers and straight to the room, which turned out probably to be a good thing since the Hotel de Oro was not quite so swanky as it looked from the outside, and there sounded like there were various instances of domestic violence going on within its quarters, so we moved upstairs to a room that was quieter but had a hole in the floor. We watched lots of tv and I got distracted in the bathroom for about half an hour with the mirrors, which Courtney pooh-poohed; "Haven't you ever been in a dressing room?" And then I panicked some more about my imminent future while drifting off to sleep.
The next morning, I pilfered the free breakfast bar and ended up getting jelly all over my bag in my excitement, while Courtney opted for a more sensible breakfast at Starbucks. Then, we were homeward bound!
