Velvet Blankets for Sleeping Giants

Exhaustion.

I'm on my last leg here after one of the most excruciating travel experiences of my life. We awoke in Haas' apartment at 730 am and packed up the goods. Like always, we played another rousing round of the stuffed-trunk puzzle game and again found a way to come out the victors.

Then came the traffic. Some moron had sent his car toppling off of an overpass and (engine first) plowed into the pavement of the Santa Monica Freeway, sending tens of firetrucks and police cars to smother the scene. And like that 6 lanes became one.

Forty-five minutes of bad morning radio and more flashing lights than a Kanye single left me feeling awful, picking right up where the dried fruit medley I called breakfast left off.

On the up-side though the pacific coast highway was gorgeous. Houses lined the shore, quaint (and not so quaintt really) restaurants filed into the empty spaces, and the rest was oceanic bliss. Pinpricked surfer outlines skimmed the whitest parts of the whole scene while the motorcyclist douchebag who cut me off was later spotted pulled over and ticketed. It was pretty great alright.

We hopped on the 101 for a bit and hit up an amazing mexican restaurant called Rose's Cafe. I put down a "Numero Seis", or a cheese enchilada and beef taco 'combinacion' for those not in the know. Abby even picked up the tab! : ) To put it in a festive 4th of July metaphor that was the firework send-off before the awful walk back to the car.

Things got ugly when we exited back to the P.C.H. and traded speeds of 20's and 30's to wind through purple and green mountains. Smeary clouds, as Abby called them, hung low over the car and we constantly battled the hairpin turns it helped to hide. We should've known something was up when the road was desolate and every national park along the way had huge CLOSED signs hanging over their entrances.

We hit a road block about 60 miles in where a police officer informed us that the only way to continue to San Fran was to backtrack the entire 60 miles to a town called Cambria, cut across highway 46 for an hour, and re-take our entire trip using the 101. The only thing that could make me frown heavier was the realization of the 4.99 per gallon gas station we were forced to use.

Anyways including traffic and all the insanity the trek that most people make in five hours was accomplished by our team in 12. Don't ever ask me to partner with you on the Amazing Race.

San Fran is beautiful though, much more will be divulged on that tomorrow. Oh and we're back to no pictures until the next decent computer comes along!

R&R