It was so sweet of Amy to want to take Jenny and I on a California tourist trip to Venice Beach. Unfortunately, she confessed she hadn't been there in about 5 years.
It was, um... different. We easily found a parking space, but not-so-easily paid for what we guessed to be 2 hours on the parking meter. But that would be plenty of time, since we were just there to grab a bite to eat for lunch and enjoy the warm California sunshine. We opted not to eat at any of the 13 restaurants near our parking spot, and instead, were promised by sweet Amy that there was a slew of dining options just down the beach. So we started walking. And walking. And walking some more. And things started to get weird. And weirder. And weirder some more. Let's just say there are some images burned into my retina that I will never be able to remove. Imagine a speedo. Nothing but a speedo. A gold, shiny, metallic speedo. On a very tan man. A very wrinkly, tan man. On roller skates. In his 60s. Yes, friends. It's true.
And it got more interesting. Medical marijuana. Ever heard of it? Venice Beach has! Apparently there are "medical professionals" donned in their best beachwear every 10 yards claiming to be the source of your best deal on medical marijuana. It's true!
We kept walking (albeit quicker and with more purpose and less wandering eyes) but seemed to only happen upon fast-food type joints with no dining area. So we kept walking. And walking some more.
Keep in mind: Amy has a medical boot on one foot to help her broken foot heal and was told to limit her time on her feet. Jenny and I were just along for the ride, but both of us probably with an increasingly hungry appetite. And both of us fearing slightly for our lives considering the crowd we found ourselves in.
And we kept walking. And walking. And walking some more.
Finally, after about 30 minutes or so, we found a little deli place that we agreed would be a good place to eat and headed in.
I'm gonna make a long, uninteresting story short. I ordered the BBQ sandwich plate with fries and no cole slaw. The waitress mentioned their cole slaw was really good, but I said no thanks, I'm just not a fan of the stuff. Truly, I hate cole slaw. I mentioned it was the mayonnaise part that I didn't like most and she said their cole slaw was "creamy." Oh, okay. That makes everything different, right? So I figured, why not? I'm on a sort of "vacation" for the day, so why not live on the edge and give it a try? I asked her to put it on the side (indicating my lack of faith I'd actually like it).
When she bright it out, it looked like every other side of cole slaw I'd ever seen.
I waited 'til the end of lunch before giving it a teeny, tiny try. Instinctively, I smelled it first. Wouldn't you?
It smelled like every other side of cole slaw.
I went for it.
It was nasty.
Just like I'd imagined every other side of cole slaw I'd ever seen would have been nasty.
But I gave myself kudos anyway for being willing to try something new. Yay!
Now it was time to hike the 1,200 miles back to to car. It was a scary little journey, seeing most of what we saw on the way down, including Captain Speedo. Bi we managed to make it to the car only to find--yep!--a parking ticket. Poor Amy. I never really understood the problem or what we did wrong, other than taking longer than expected to walk to lunch and back.
Next up, in Part IV, apparently, I'll share with you about our evening together with FIVE of us Sisters by Heart meeting each other for the first time. It was, in a word, amazing! I might try to speed it all up a bit with shorter summaries because I've got to cover a very special day on Sunday at Travis' Celebration of Life service, and of course, my tumultuous return flights home on Monday.
Posted from my iPhone.