LA LA LA I’m off to New York.
I was back in sticky icky Los Angeles. No matter how much I force myself, I still don’t like it. For brief moments I kind of feel nostalgic and think there’s something to it, but I always end up being reminded why I’m glad I don’t live there anymore. This time, traffic and the sun! People claim they prefer dry heat as opposed to the humid heat we get in New York, I don’t. Yes, humid heat is gross but at least I feel moist and I don’t feel the sun charring my skin.
The cab ride was annoying. Traffic and sun. Three twenty dollar bills later, I finally got to ‘Chet’s’ place. He’d gotten out of work early. I took a quick shower and we headed to ‘Malo’ for some happy hour good times. My friend ‘Talent Waster’ was meeting us later, and so was ‘Chet’s’ belle ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’. Before even having a glance at the $1 happy hour taco menu, we compulsively ordered a few rounds of margaritas to take advantage of the remaining 15 minutes of happy hour. Not strange behavior for me and my LA beezies. The evening was off to a good start.
We drank and chitchatted. As per usual, I complained to ‘Talent Waster’ about why she hasn’t quit her job and moved to New York. She got her nickname because she comfortably works at fashion suicide headquarters Forever XXI, yet she is probably one of the most talented people I’ve met in my life, and I know a lot of talented people. Another friend of mine (‘Riff’) joined. Drank some more. Smoked. Headed back to ‘Chet’s’.
We made more drinks and put on a movie, and again, as usual, within minutes the three of them, ‘Chet’, ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’, and ‘Talent Waster’, were asleep. ‘Riff’ decided to head back downtown. I hastily decided to catch a ride with him and go to ‘Mustache Mondays’, a weekly gay night at a Mexican dive bar. ‘Riff’ decided to join. The bar was pretty empty. We only stayed for two drinks. I said hi to acquaintances and cabbed it back to silver lake. I stopped at ‘Akbar’ for a very early last call (1:30). ‘Akbar’ was empty as well. What can I say? it’s California.
The next day I dilly dallied and caught up on my HBO. I went to the beach with ‘Ceviche Mama’ and her two kids. It took us forever to get there. My phone was acting up and she didn’t have one so we had to navigate old school style. Smartphones have made us dumber.
The beach was nice. I normally hate the sun, but ‘Ceviche Mama’, being the crazy mexican/spaniard anti dark skin woman she is, brought an umbrella so her children wouldn’t get any skin cancer, but most importantly, tan. We ate her deliciously prepared ceviche, scampi, soyrizo, homemade tortillas, and rice pudding. I drank the one beer she brought for me. We walked to the water for a second and I stepped on a motherfucking bee. It didn’t sting as much as I thought it would.
We didn’t stay much longer. We trekked back to the car and I sneaked off to enjoy a cancer stick. Spending time with children reminded me why I don’t want to have any. Lovely kids, but I don’t think I’ll ever be willing to take on the task of raising one. I do think, however, I’d be an awesome uncle.
Just like her kids, I slept the whole way back. I got dropped off at ‘Chet’s’. His woman had a work dinner, so she was going to meet us later. We decided to go to ‘Sun of a Gun’, a new seafood restaurant that’d been getting a lot of hype. ‘Talent Waster’ joined us. The food was a bit too overpriced for what it was. I really enjoyed it, but I think New York has spoiled me when it comes to restaurants. Carson Daly was there.
We went back home and drank some more. At some point, I made plans with another friend, who’d just moved back to LA from New York, to meet for a quick drink at ‘Akbar’. It was nice to see him. I’m still mad he gave up on the city, but whatever, just like LA isn’t for me, maybe New York wasn’t for him. I keep forgetting not everyone thinks the same way I do.
Wednesday morning I woke up, said bye to both my hosts and wasted more time till I had to catch my train to San Diego.
I arrived to downtown SD at around 7 pm. My friend ‘Deenial’ picked me up with her man and her kid. We went to ‘Sipz’ for some tasty vegan asian food. Again, I don’t want to have children. My ‘nephew’, I’ve been given the title of Drunkle J, is lovely, but I insist, I don’t want the responsibility. We left the place and headed home. She was gonna drop me off at my mom’s. We stopped by a grocery store on the way. I bought a bottle of wine with a screw top to satiate the needs of my anxiety. I’ve become more wise when it comes to drinking, hence the screw top as opposed to a cork because who knows if I’ll be able to find a corkscrew. I hid it in my bag for when I needed my medication. My parents don’t really comment on my addictions, but I’d rather not give them reasons to do so in the future.
As usual, I barely saw my parents. They were asleep. I picked up my dog, who was a bit mad at me, and force hugged him till he loved me back, and went to my sister’s room. I finished my bottle and dozed off.
The next morning I ended up at the doctor’s office all day. First the dentist, then my dad’s clinic, then the dermatologist. I was prescribed 6 weeks of medicine for my yet to be correctly diagnosed scalp condition. The doctor took a chunk off my scalp for testing, and strongly stated that I not drink while I was taking the pills. I normally don’t care for such warnings, but then my dad and my cousin, both doctors insisted I really don’t drink because I would most likely severely scar my liver. I decided to listen to them, and as soon as I get the medicine, which I’m mailing my self from SoCal, I’m gonna try and not drink. My skin will be glowy, my belly will be less bellyish, and my scalp won’t leave dead skin trails everywhere.
After my anatomical tune up, we went to a molecular gastronomy restaurant in Tijuana. Yes, I said we went to a molecular gastronomy restaurant in Tijuana. Apparently, the place had been written about on the NY Times. I was very intrigued to see if it’d live up to my expectations. My parents claimed it was good, but this is also coming from the man who once said that a multiple personality disorder Asian place similar to PF Changs was good. To my surprise the food was actually very good. The restaurant was ok. Service was bad for such a restaurant, but good for Tijuana.
I said good bye to my daddy and my mom drove me to my friend’s place in San Diego where I was to spend the night. It took a fucking eternity to cross the border.
While in San Diego, I went to happy hour with my friend and her roommate at another restaurant with multiple personality disorder. It is a sushi restaurant with an Italian name and a diverse menu. No, it is not fusion, it’s just not plain Japanese sushi, or Mexican food, but a strange mix of both. I’ve been to the place before, it’s alright for its convenience. It is literally downstairs from my friend’s apartment, and it’s quite inexpensive during happy hour. We downed a few drinks, ate some bad fish, and crawled back up the stairs. Her roommate and I had another drink, she didn’t. We all went to bed.
I woke up to my last few hours on the west coast. I was very excited to get back home. My mom picked me up from my friend’s, we drove to target, bought some stuff I needed, shipped myself a box of goodies, and off to the airport I went (with a quick pit stop at in-n-out, FINALLY!). My travels have been good. I’ve enjoyed them and the people I’ve visited, but never have I missed a city I lived in more than I’ve missed New York. As I write this, I’m trying to think of a good song lyric to describe how I feel about the city. My mind sings a few different ones, but non of them accurately express my emotions. Basically, I’m just getting chills, and that’s really the best way to describe it.