Saturday, June 22, 2013

The Real Name is "Pissin' Across America"

June 19-20-21, 2013

As the final bags were packed away for the summer in San Diego, Part Two (the far superior half) was just beginning. Far superior of course, because I joined up with the rest of the crew and filled up the Suburban with my own unique ability to call everybody out on literally everything (thanks a lot, Jackson). This is my maiden post on our journey, with plenty more posts and photos to follow over the next three weeks.
The rest of the guys finally arrived at my door on Wednesday morning, knocking on the door for a half hour at 7am before I finally woke up and let them in. All of us equally groggy, the path to sleep was met with little resistance. That afternoon, after a little packing and an attempt to finish fixing the car, we hopped into the Suburban and went off to see a bit of SD. A San Diego favorite, I simply had to take them to get California burritos (for those of you who have never tasted the delicious symphony that is a California burrito, it is generally a carne asada burrito with guacamole and french fries). They wanted to see downtown, so I took them to Lucha Libre (as seen on Man vs. Food and a popular luchador-themed taco shop) and we got our dinner. We headed downtown and saw some of the local nightlife before heading back to hang out with some of my UCSD friends before we went north.

The next day we drove up to Los Angeles, where we planned to stay the night in Burbank with a friend of mine from school. On our way north, we stopped in San Clemente for lunch to get burritos at Olamendi’s- quickly usurping the spot of “Jackson’s Best Burrito” from Lucha Libre the night before. Agree to disagree, I suppose. We made a short stop in Hermosa Beach to watch Game 7 of the NBA Finals and also meet up with one of Alex’s friends who was having a birthday before continuing on to Burbank for the night. (Special thanks to the Escobar house for their generous hospitality!) Friday morning we left Burbank and, after a short detour through LA to see Warner Brothers Studio and the Hollywood sign, we began looking for PCH and headed north. We caught the coast around Morro Bay and drove along Highway 1 for 120 miles of awesome splendor. Jagged rocks cut up from the sea to our left and ragged hills rose to our right, the late-afternoon sun catching it all perfectly. Rolling hills covered in golden grasses and dotted with the occasional tree or herd of cattle, majestic vistas at every turn. Leighton and I were in control of the radio, so the music was undeniably Phishy and served as the perfect soundtrack to such a beautiful landscape. We spent the night in Monterey, crammed into a small motel room and under the watchful eye of the woman manning the front desk. Monterey as a town was quiet, perhaps we missed the excitement or perhaps it is simply a sleepy town. We stopped into Sly McFly’s for a drink, and the “World Famous Jazz & Blues” venue was full of middle-aged energy led by a pretty talented cover band. Too tired to stay until last call, we headed back to the motel and turned in for the night. -N




1 comment:

  1. California is the best, and raised the best of us! That's where Jack inherited his coolness from, ha ha.

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