Rehoboth Church: POSTPONED!!

So due to the unfortunate knee injury of our trip guide, it looks like this weekend's trip down to West Virginia's Rehoboth Church Church Cave will be postponed for a few weeks.  I was talking to her last night and we're thinking sometime in the spring might be a bit more reasonable.   We don't know the extent of the injury yet, so I think any further plans will have to depend on what she finds out in the next few days.

In the meantime, I'm not totally opposed to taking a weekend and getting a few things in order at home.  I'll be able to make up a few hours over at Ski Patrol and there's some house cleaning to do, something I've been avoiding all winter.  It's getting to be that time though, so I might as well get started early.  Next weekend I'll be traveling down to Cincinnati though, mainly just to see a few old friends I've been out of touch with for a while.  In the meantime, I'll continue to post ideas and plans for other trips and adventures.  Until then...

From Sand to Snow

After a short breakfast of peanut butter toast and slices of pear, I loaded up Corey’s car and climbed into the passenger seat, as she started up the car and prepared to drive me back to the airport for my trip home. Not before, however, we decided to drive down to the beach (less than a mile from her apartment steps) and took one last long look at the sand and surf before I boarded my plane.

I passed through security with ease and soon found myself cramming into the tightest space of a seat I’ve ever traveled in. Sliding my computer under my seat, I put my head back and closed my eyes, not to open them again until we were a good hour-and-a-half into the flight. I believe we’re somewhere over Illinois now…in fact as I look out the window, I believe I can see the shoreline of Lake Michigan on the horizon, amidst the patches of field and snow that blanket the Plains. That means we have about an hour-and-a-half of the flight left, and that much closer to the exposure of 20+ degree weather and at least six inches of fresh snow. It’s hard to believe I was staring at palm trees this morning.

20 minutes left until my battery dies.

My dad is set to meet me at the airport when I land, where we’ll first grab a bite to eat, then head down to Medina to pick up Kino at Sarah’s house. At that point I’ll go home, and most likely to bed. Regardless of whether or not I can spend the rest of this flight sleeping, I’m sure going to need a lot more of it once I get back. If I had a hard enough time adjusting to west coast time, I can only imagine how rough it’s going to be to adjust back.

16 minutes left. On that note, I’m going to sign off and shut my eyes. Another trip has come and gone, but many more are in store for sure, possibly as soon as this coming weekend. Los Angeles was a great experience though, and for the first time, allowed me to feel as if I was really living the city unlike I had ever done before. Maybe it was because I was alone. Maybe it was because things are different now. Either way, it opened my eyes, and I’m more eager to see and travel and experience as much as I possibly can, more than I ever had before. I may not be back to California for awhile, but I know I’ll always welcome it if I do return. Between now and then though, the travels have only just begun.

The Viper Room

About a week ago, Corey called me up while I was at work and told me that she had big plans for us on Saturday night. A few minutes later, she sent me a link to the website for the Viper room with a page-full advertisement of The Pussycat Dolls’ burlesque act on February 14th. She had gotten us tickets, stating confidently that there was no better way to spend Valentine’s Day in LA. She couldn’t have been more right.

Heading up to Sunset Boulevard, we found a nice little place called Isla to sit down, eat dinner and have a few drinks before the show. The food was excellent, with Corey ordering a vegetable fajita and myself enjoying a lime-marinated chicken breast with Spanish rice and an assortment of grilled vegetables. Following dinner we walked across the street to the lower entrance of the Viper Room, where we spent some time hanging out in a small little lounge while we waited for the show to begin upstairs.

Around 10:00, they opened up the stage room, which is actually a lot smaller than either one of us had expected, and we took our positions just to the right of the main catwalk that extended from the stage. Within minutes, one of the girls climbed up on a trapeze swing that hung from the ceiling on the other side of the stage where she actually stayed for the majority of the night. Men in sailor outfits started filtering into the crowd and after a fairly long jaunt of another dancer inviting members of the audience up on stage, lights erupted from behind the curtain, and the wall screamed “Pussycat Dolls” in full pink neon.

They sang, they danced. They splashed around in over-sized martini glasses and bear-claw tubs in only the way that true women of burlesque can. Corey was right; this was the only way to spend Valentine’s Day in LA and I was having a blast.

The show ended around 1, and after talking to a few of the girls from the show, we left the Viper Room and its legends behind and headed home, signaling the close of the last night of my vacation in Los Angeles. I’m not sure when I’ll see Hollywood again, but I can’t help but think that at least I’m able to leave with some of the better memories I’ve collected from this town. With the company of some of my oldest friends, and one of the more memorable Saturday nights I’ve had in recent memory, everything about this vacation defined mental health. It might actually be difficult to head home.

Griffith Park

Functioning on a little more than four hours sleep because of my body’s refusal to still adjust to the Pacific Time Zone, I woke up fairly early in the morning and made myself breakfast. Not long after, Corey rolled herself off the couch and we sat down to plan out our day over some peanut butter toast and Earl Grey tea. We both knew that we wanted to go hiking, but we couldn’t decide whether we wanted to hit the more rugged Santa Monica mountains, or the all-encompassing view of Griffith Park. Almost immediately we decided on Griffith Park due to easy access to the Observatory and the ease of getting there.

Two hours later we parked her car on the hill and started up towards the Observatory. I’ve seen plenty of photos, but I’ve never been there, so we went inside and took a good look around the first floor of exhibits. One of the most interesting pieces to me was the Tesla Coil, which was unfortunately not in working condition at the moment. For those that don’t know what the Tesla Coil is, it’s a wireless converter of low wattage currents into high voltage electricity constructed by Nicoli Tesla in the late 19th century. Although it’s practical use was never used outside of his lab, today’s high voltage wire systems and grids still use aspect of this concept across the globe. Tesla was an innovator and an engineering genius, and I find his work completely fascinating.

The Observatory started to get crowded, so we left the main building and stocked with fruit, raisins and a few bottles of water, we headed up the steep incline to the peak of Griffith Park. It was about an hour walk in each direction, mainly because we took our time exploring the side paths and bouldering opportunities. The land up here is still somewhat scorched from the fires a few years back, but there is a lot of new growth forming, and the mountain, although speckled with burnt shrubbery and gnarled wood, is once again turning green again.

From the summit you can view practically all of Los Angeles, from the eastern mountain ranges to the Pacific Ocean, and everything in between. Downtown is clearly visible, as is West Hollywood, Santa Monica, San Fernando, Anaheim, The Valley to the north and even El Segundo and Redondo Beach to the south. On a clear, smog-light day, it’s said that you can even see San Diego. I wouldn’t doubt it.

Following a few snacks and some re-hydration time on the summit, we headed back down the hill towards the car, loaded up our stuff and headed into downtown LA to see Frank Gehry’s Walt Disney Concert Hall. Gehry buildings fascinate me and they’re an excellent outlet for abstract photography, so I didn’t waste any time snapping as many shots of the angles and curves of its outer shell as possible. What’s interesting about this particular structure is that you can actually weave your way through the building while never actually going inside. Along the way are hidden terraces and secret gardens, all built within the outside shell. It was beautiful.

We had big plans later that evening, so as dusk began to set in, Corey and I headed back to El Segundo so that we’d have enough time to change and get something to eat before setting off to West Hollywood.

More to Come...

The past 36 hours or so have been a whirlwind and there's so much to talk about, but it's been tough to update because my computer is currently unable to connect to the internet. That may change once I get to the airport, and further updates describing our outing in Hollywood will most definitely come later on this evening.

For now though, I'll leave you with this: West Hollywood, The Viper Room, and the Pussy Cat Dolls Lounge. It was a hell of a way to spend February 14th.

What to Do in LA When It's Raining

After filming the "Sticky Floor Friday" segment with Steve, I originally had plans of heading down to Newport Beach and visiting with my friend Brad. He and his wife Leslie just had twins about a year or so ago, so it would've been great to see him. Unfortunately, we weren't able to get ahold of each other, so as the morning slipped away, Steve and I tried to figure out what to do.

I suggested a hike around Runyan canyon, a neat little series of trails nestled next to Muholland Drive in the hills where a lot of people go to run and let their dogs loose through the park. I packed up my bag, opened the door to find a near torrential downpour coming down on top of us. Our hiking plans defeated, I looked at Steve, and we both said two words unanimously.

"Rock Band."

So this is what people do in LA when it rains. They play Rock Band. For hours. And oh, we did. Opting to chow down on a bit of Mexican food first in order to build up some energy for the game. Upon our return, we jammed, Steve on drums, me on guitar. Eddie Van Halen would've been envious.

I left Steve's around five and battled my way south on the 405 through LA traffic and the sheer madness of Friday rush hour. Slipping off the freeway at Sunset, I weaved my way down along the coast, passing once again through Santa Monica, Marina Del Ray, then finally into El Segundo where it would've been nice to rest for a bit before picking up Corey at the airport. She was supposed to get back into town at 8:30 at night, but because of the crash of the Continental Airline out of Newark, things took a turn. Still in Newark, her flight into Charlotte was inevitably delayed, so she was able to hop on a direct flight straight into LA, putting her into town well after midnight.

I had a bit of time still, so I called a college buddy of mine in Marina Del Ray and made plans to meet him and his wife Push for dinner at a seafood place right in the marina called Shanghai Red. I had never met Push before, but had seen plenty of photos from their wedding and various Halloween parties, so it was fun to finally meet her and reunite with Andy after all of these years. After we dinner we stopped for a beer around the corner from their apartment, following which I headed back towards the airport to pick up Corey. Exhausted and in much need of a drink, we met a few of her friends in downtown El Segundo, who ended up coming back to her apartment for a short late-night party. It was short-lived however, and I soon found myself fast asleep, failing miserable at the attempt to aclimate myself to west coast time. In the morning we would go hiking for the day, and I needed my energy.

Sticky Floor Friday

A few times a week, Steve updates his entertainment editorial site, Nerd With Words.  And every Friday he posts a video segment he likes to call, "Sticky Floor Friday," a quick discussion/critique of new films being released into theaters that week.  Usually he does this solo.  Today was different.  

Introducing, The Remake: It's the same, but only better.

Ah, Traffic: LA's Brain-stabbing Charm

As promised, I left Corey's this morning and headed straight up the coast, making quick stops in Marina Del Ray, Venice and Santa Monica, just to look around and explore the area. The coast is within sight, although the cold breeze and frigid waters weren't attracting many crowds along the beach. In fact, they looked rather sparse. To its defense though, it was a Thursday morning when I was passing through this area, and I would imagine most people are at work by now. I didn't mind though, as it was more room for me to stretch my legs.

Not long ago, I was asked to consider moving to LA, something I was extremely hesitant about, mainly because there are so many other places I would rather live; Portland, Denver and San Francisco topping that list. However, these areas were different. I actually really like it down here and I could've seen myself enjoying the area. It's a chill, beach-vibe where obviously people work hard to maintain their existence in the area, but life isn't taken too seriously and everyone sort of just wants to enjoy the day. It's a far cry from the land-locked LA that I've mainly been exposed to up until now. Down here along the coast, it's just...cool.

Upon arriving in Santa Monica, I walked up and down the pier alone for the first time since I'd first visited LA, constantly allowing the sights and sounds to trigger old memories from the last time I was there. I had a photo taken of me then, as well as the time before that, both in the same corner of the pier with the hills above Malibu far in the distance. Just adjacent to that corner, a seagull overhead had unloaded a huge, white glob of shit all down the front of my shirt. I laughed then, and checking overhead for any stealthy feathered bombers (there were none close enough to be a threat) I laughed again at the thought of the incident repeating itself. Passing up a third photo op of myself in that corner, I headed back towards the car and hopped on Santa Monica Avenue towards Hollywood.

1:18pm - Santa Monica. 1:52pm - Beverly Hills. 2:35pm - West Hollywood. 2:58pm - Paramount Studios. 3:15pm - Rudy's Barbershop in East Hollywood. Total driving distance? 9.8 miles. Now I remember why I didn't want to move to LA.

When I was in LA two years ago, I got my hair cut at this place called Rudy's, just down the street from my cousin's place. It's got a hipster vibe to it, being located in an old car garage and covered with magazine cut-outs and cool ad designs from the ceiling to the floor. With my shag getting a bit out of control, I figured that it was finally time to do something about it and what better place to have it done? It just seemed to make sense. So, I walked it and was immediately paired up with a guy named Keith that had, within the span of 40 minutes, turned my rag hag head into a closely cropped textured cut that I hadn't seen on myself since before June. Following the chop, I headed over to my cousin Kim's place where I hung out with her husband Myke for a while before we went around the corner to dinner at a place called The Alcove. I've been there before and their sandwiches are phenomenal, so I jumped at the chance to go. After dinner, I said my goodbye's to Myke and bowled through traffic once again in order to get to my old friend Steve's place in Studio City.

Almost immediately upon my arrival, Steve had to leave for a roller hockey game, which I was more than happy to attend when he asked if I wanted to come. Sure, I could've used the rest, but what fun would that have been? Steve's been playing since we were kids and at one point in our lives tried to get me into it as well. I failed miserably and he decided at that point to continue concentrating on his own efforts instead of helping me sort through mine.

The game was fun and Steve's team won, giving us more of a reason to celebrate when we got back to his place. Waiting for us was his girlfriend Stephanie, and after Steve got a chance to shower, the three of us headed down the block to a place called the Fox and Hounds, a neat little English Pub that soon became filled with the amplified sounds of aucoustic guitars and folk-like vocals. Over the next few hours we downed our beers and enjoyed the atmosphere, only deciding to head back after the band had stopped playing and the tables had started clearing out.

I'm now ready for bed and about to get some much needed rest, knowing full well that tomorrow is about to be another very long and busy day. I'm hoping to head down to Newport Beach fairly early, but judging from today's traffic, getting from here to El Segundo is going to be hard enough. And suddenly I realize, I'm way too tired to even think about it.

El Segundo

Catching up on some things at home, I feel as if the day is already wasting away, so I'm going to keep this entry short and save the photo uploads for later on tonight, to give me the opportunity to get in all the things I want to do for the remainder of the day.

I landed safely last night at about 8:00 and met my friend Corey at the airport. She lives in El Segundo, just about ten minutes south of LAX, so it was extremely convienient for the both of us. She's out of town for most of the time I'm here, so she recently offered me her car and a place to crash to save me the expenses of renting a car and dealing with all of that hassle. Upon leaving the airport, we made it back to her apartment, where she had a huge pot of vegan lentil soup waiting, filling the apartment with an aroma that made me realize that the small ham sandwich i had on the plane wasn't quite enough to cut it for the rest of the night. We chowed down on the soup and some salad we both prepared and hung out around the area the rest of the night, catching up on old times and figuring out all of the things that I can do here for the rest of the trip.

Corey has a job interview in New Jersey for the next few days, so I dropped her off at the airport just about two hours ago, and came back here, taking the opportunity to catch up on email and some missed phone calls before I head out. I'm going to walk on the beach for a bit, then head up to the Hollywood area where I'm going to meet up with my cousin's husband at his recording studio, then over to Studio City to meet Mr. Steve and his girlfriend Stephanie. We talked about heading out around his area tonight, so it seems as if I'm going to be crashing up in that area of town. There might be a bonus addition to the blog from that visit, with it being the eve of Friday and all, so check back tomorrow for any further updates.

On that note, it's 11:00 and I need to bolt. Sand and surf await, even if it is colder here than it is in Cleveland. ...figures.

There's One Hour Left in the Flight...

There’s an hour left in the flight.

No longer able to stare out the window at the ever-changing landscape of cumulous and cirrus cloud formations, I turn to my laptop, desperate for a bit of music and the gothic ambiance of The Cure that might drown out the screaming child four rows behind me. …It’s not working.

The sky is dark now, and only a few spotted lights of small, rural American towns are visible in-between the porous pockets among the clouds below me. I find myself wishing that I were actually passing through them, and not above them, to explore their diners and their traditions as I traverse westward along lost roads towards the Pacific. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again, and hopefully a bit sooner rather than later. The lights have disappeared behind the darkening clouds of dusk now, and the window becomes pitch. There’s an hour left to the flight, and although my eyes are heavy from the drone of the engines and the lack of sleep I obtained last night, I’m getting restless. So, I write.

Six and a half hours ago, I grabbed my pack and suitcase and walked six blocks from my office towards Tower City Center, where I would board the RTA train straight into Cleveland Hopkins Airport. It was a 30-minute straight shot on the Red Line, for those that have never taken it, offering passage through the dismal and rusted landscape of Cleveland, Ohio. The ride is speckled with gutted buildings and boarded up windows, a sad glimpse into what used to be an extremely strong industrial Mecca…a time that has long passed, and one we may never see again. There are beautiful, breath-taking parts to Cleveland. The Red Line avoided each and every one of them.

Another break in the clouds and I see lights! An enormous city in the midst of nothing. For a second I hope that it’s Phoenix and I look for Shaw Butte, the mountain that my uncle’s house sits at the base of. Then I realize I’m looking at Vegas. My enthusiasm drops exponentially. Back to work.

Back at the airport, I check in relatively quickly and make it through security with no problem. They didn’t search me or strip me down to my skivvies like they did in Cincinnati, nor did they pigeonhole me as a terrorist because of my darkening beard. No, this time they let me pass without question. However, I did see the man that gave us all the hassle about Lisa’s luggage only two weeks ago and charged her $100 for checking a snowboard bag…because she padded it with clothes. (It should’ve only have been $15, like the rest of us had paid) He was wearing a red vest this time, an obvious compliment to his superiority complex, separating him from the rest of his peon agents that sadly have to report their duties to him. I contemplate running up and kicking him in his shin. Images of handcuffs and the prospect of cavity searches fill my brain. I move on.

While waiting for the call for boarding, I pass the time holding conversation and small talk with a woman sitting next to me in the terminal. She’s going to law school and is going out to LA for business. I tell her I’m out there visiting friends, when I get the call from Sarah that Kino is alive and well, riding comfortably in her car towards Medina where he’ll stay for the rest of the week until I return. She claims they’re best friends now and I smile, knowing full well that he’ll trust anyone that offers him a ride in their car. Just as I get off the phone, they call for my row and I wish Law-school woman (who’s name I never got) a safe flight and I board the plane.

Five hours, a ham sandwich, two glasses of tomato juice and a miserable game of computer chess later, the captain announces that we’re starting our descent. Thirty minutes left in the air and I’m anxious to stretch my legs. My ears are popping and I think the man next to me just farted. I hope he’s not reading this as I type.

Going to California...

With a little bit of help from Kino, I've gotten everything packed, and I'm pretty much set to go. Chris has the house in order, Sarah's picking up Kino after work and bringing him down to her place in Medina where he'll spend the week in the company of her other dogs (and a cat...which should prove interesting), and I've brought all my stuff into work so that I don't have to worry about getting a ride into the airport. So in about six hours, I'll be heading on a train from Downtown Cleveland to Hopkin's International Airport, where I'll board a direct flight at 5:15, arriving straight into Los Angeles, California around 7:30.

This is a mental health trip, and I feel like I need it. I'm going to see some friends that I don't get to hang out with often enough, hopefully see a college buddy's year-old twins, drive up the coast a bit, do some hiking, and just relax. I don't have a schedule. I don't have an itinerary. Aside from what looks to be a fun night in Hollywood on Saturday, nothing's really planned and I just want to keep it that way. The goal is to come home from a vacation where I'm actually more relaxed than I was when I left.

For everyone asking, no...I'm not going to see Stephanie. It was hard, but I thought it best that we kept our distance for awhile, so as not to confuse things. She agreed and we're going to spend this next week apart, doing our own separate things. Maybe we'll see each other in a few months when she comes back to visit for the holidays, but for the time being, ...well, it'll just be easier this way on both of us.

Some certain Zeppelin lyrics come to mind as I go...and in all honesty, it really isnt quite as hard as it seems.

Ohio Snow

Last night, at about 11:25 eastern time, we landed in Cleveland, about 20 minutes earlier than expected. Although the beginning of the trip showed signs of long delays, we made all of our connections, and arrived back in Ohio safe and sound. That however, did not make the trip feel any shorter. It was a long, long day.

We woke up in the morning, packed our things, and met the shuttle in front of our lodge at about 10:45am. Contrary to our previous ride up to Breck, we were now traveling back through the Rockies in broad daylight, allowing for what may have been one of the more informative, entertaining rides I've taken in a long time. This guy knew everything. He pointed out how to spot mines in the canyons around us, and how to tell each between a gold mine and a silver mine. He gave us a thorough history of the towns we passed through, and the surrounding peaks that towered over us as we wound our way down the hill. Dog sledding, big-horned mountain sheep, Clive Cussler and plate techtonics were just a few of the other subjects covered. Two hours flew by like nothing.

Upon arriving at the airport, we immediately found out that our flight was delayed 45 minutes. Which, soon after turned into 90, then 110. No matter, we had a delay in Chicago that was over three hours, so we sat around Denver's airport for the next three hours (we were fairly early to begin with), ate some food and enjoyed the fateful procrastonation of actually making it out of the state of Colorado. (pronounced 'Call-a-rad-duh' by the natives...interesting tidbit) As we were getting on the plane, the Superbowl started. When we landed, there were five minutes left in the game.

Every year I go to one Superbowl party or another, watching the game with friends, having a few beers and enjoying pot-luck food that is in no way shape or form, healthy for you. To be honest, a lot of those parties run together. This year was memorable.

Garrett, Lisa, Claire and I were gathered in Chicago's airport, eyes glued to the television set at the gate, watching the game's last five minutes on the clock, which as far as I know, could've been the most exciting. Here were are, with at least 30 strangers, blatently ignoring the flight attendent's pleas to board the plane as the timer counted down. Pittsburgh scored. Cheers were heard. Yells of disapproval echoed through the cooridor. Six minutes left in boarding time. Arizona fumbles. Some guy at another gate screams "FUCK!" at the top of his lungs. Fifteen seconds left of game time. The Steelers win. ...I'm the last one on the plane, and the gates are shut behind me.

An hour and a half later, we landed in Cleveland. The first thing I thought when I walked outside was how different the snow is here as compared to Breckenridge. It was clean there. White. Fluffy. People didn't mind snow on the sidewalks. Here it's dirty. Hard. Stained with salt and grit. I laughed at the irony of being home.

We're all safe now, home and settled back into our daily lives, and I'm about to head into work. Reality begins again, but it was a fantastic break. And soon, the travels will begin once more.

Until then.

Heading Home

The distant caw of the crow.
Rays of morning light seep into the room.

The trip has come to an end.

We left the condo around 8:00 last night and made our way across town to a Restaurant named the Motherloaded Tavern.  On the way, we stopped in a few of the stores that Claire and Lisa had seen earlier in the day to find some memorabilia to take home with us, back to Cleveland.  

Claire picked up a few magnets, and Lisa grabbed a t-shirt.  

I actually returned later while we were waiting for a table and picked out a Breckenridge Ski Patrol Search & Rescue hat. Garrett however...ah, Garrett...bought a Breckenridge t-shirt with a collage of wolves printed across the front.  You know the type of image, the kind they sell in truck stops and motorcycle shops, worn primarily by said truckers and bikers as they migrate from one state to another.  It was freaking hysterical, and he's wearing it with pride.

We sat down at the Motherloaded for our final dinner in town and spent most of the time reflecting on the past few days and when we'll all have the chance to return, hopefully then with a larger representation of our friends so that we can all enjoy this trip together.  We all talked about how great it would be to pack up our things and head out west, whether it be Denver, Breckenridge, or even farther west and north, as long as we have access to the mountains and the trails that would lead us into a simpler life.  One devoid of mortgages and careers, economic struggles and the general stress of everyday life.  How we could wake up in the morning, grab a quick bite to eat and head out on the trail with our canine companions, only to return later in the day and work into the evening at a ski shop or mountain store, followed by a drink or two at the local pub and then home, where we prepare for yet another day of freedom from the constraints of a career-orientated existence. 

 

After finishing our salads and steaks, Lisa decided to head home and get a head start on packing, while Claire, Garrett and I dropped into Ullr's bar again to finish the night with a few games of pool and air hockey.  We tipped back a few rounds with the locals and before long, found ourselves walking up the stairs to our condo and saying one last good-bye to Breckenridge's nightlife.  

So now we're all packed, and ready to go.  The girls are still sleeping, Garrett is in the shower, and within a few hours we'll be on our way back to Denver, amidst the mass exodus of a weekend ski town, only to fly our way to Chicago, then finally back to Cleveland later on tonight.  Hopefully we won't have any issues on our way back home.  The weather looks clear and we've been blessed with good fortune so far.  Let's just cross our fingers that it continues into Ohio, at which time I'll probably submit one final entry for this chapter of the blog.  Goodbye, Breckenridge.  We'll see each other again, I'm sure.