Escape from L.A., Part 2

I should’ve known that fateful Sunday wouldn’t turn out the way I expected. I had planned that whole weekend out perfectly—I worked myself to the bone to get everything done on Saturday just so I could have the whole day to spend at the West Hollywood Book Fair on Sunday. Everything should’ve gone as planned that day. But when I opened the door that early morning and saw that fresh heap of a turd sitting right at the foot of my doorstep, I frowned, my body instantly filling with disgust and hate for these horrible neighbors of mine. This was surely a fine start to my day.

Deciding to put that image of that brown carcass out of my mind, we stopped by at this diner for breakfast. Some nice, crispy bacon wrapped in a tortilla with beans and eggs sounded just like the right thing for us. But, alas, the bacon was not crispy; there were chunks of fat dangling on the ends. Talk about a mood spoiler. We had to return the plates in hopes that they would rectify it and not spit in our food.

After we got our plates back, we ended up enjoying a delicious breakfast. Everything was oh-so-yummy! I had just gotten my fill, having devoured every tiny morsel of my meal, when the wind suddenly shifted after a couple of bums entered the place, sending a putrid wind in our vicinity. I nearly vomited at the smell, which was like a clogged toilet. I had just downed a good meal, but this stench was bringing it back up. Ugh! So that was the end of that meal and possibly the end of food, in general, at that point.

It was about 8 o’ clock when we got on the road to Los Angeles. The traffic was mild and easy-going. Timing was going splendidly. It took less than an hour to get there, giving us more than enough time before the fair started at 10 a.m. Sweet!

If I mentioned it once, I’ll say it again: I HATE driving in L.A. In trying to look for that student Pacific Design Center, the place offering $10 parking for the event, I nearly went the wrong way making a U-turn on one of those curvy side roads that are so popular in L.A. Those damn lines were so confusing!

Traveling down San Vicente Blvd, we came across a parking lot—actually, it was more of a road block. Apparently, the street was completely blocked off. A bunch of cars were cramming into the left-turning lane in an attempt to get out of there. I’ve never seen so many middle fingers shoot up in one setting.

We tried to make several more attempts to get back onto San Vicente by going around other streets, but the end result was the same: it was all completely blocked off. Cops were trying to direct the mess of traffic packed in a no-win situation. Car horns blared in the air as one guy shouted, “How the f#* are we suppose to get outta here?” The guy was only saying what we were all thinking.

We needed to get our bearings, so we stopped at a Vons so we could ask one of the cops how to get to the book fair. I waited in the car while my mom went to go ask. As she was walking back, I saw the glum look on her face as she was shaking her head. Oh, no. Apparently, the cop told her that we weren’t going to get to the West Hollywood park. The roads were all closed off for the L.A. marathon. L.A. marathon? Didn’t we hear something about that on the news this morning during breakfast? At the moment, I really didn’t think much of it because I was sure that we would bypass it somehow. Boy, was I wrong. I guess that should’ve been our omen right there. Somebody was trying to tell us to just stay home. But did I listen?

Now, the problem was: How the hell was I gonna get out of here!? I was hot, I was confused, and my frustration had nearly blown off the top of my head. But most of all, I was pissed because I drove all the way out to L.A. for that book fair and couldn’t get there. Steam was practically shooting out of my nose and ears. I pretty much lost it. GOD DAMMIT!  

In a blind rage, I somehow maneuvered out of that disastrous pile up and found the freeway. At that point, all I wanted to do was get back to civilization and free-flowing traffic.

I guess I must have been delirious from the heat or my anger, because I convinced myself to go to the OC Children’s Book Festival in Costa Mesa. Costa Mesa wasn’t that far, and I did want to go to a book fair today. Why didn’t I just go home right then and there?

First of all, I couldn’t find the damn place—no surprise there. Second, there were just TOO MANY kids. God, I hate kids, which was why I decided not to go to this event in the first place. The only thing I wanted to see was the teen stage, and that was a big ball-buster. I think we spent about 10 minutes there before deciding to leave and forget about it. The fair absolutely sucked!

What would have been the final cherry on top of this whole fun-loving Sunday was if I had gotten a parking ticket. Walking back to the car, I saw like 3 or 4 security officers giving out tickets. Oh, shit! Panicked, I rushed to find my car, desperately hoping not to find a piece of paper fluttering beneath the windshield wiper. Within minutes, I finally found it. We quickly hopped in and peeled out of that parking lot as fast as we could. I had evaded that ticket by a small fraction. Phew!

I guess somebody decided to take pity on me in that moment.

So that was the end of a day that never started. Next time, I will look beyond the foul stench of that caca and recognize the disaster that could lie ahead.