Home From LA

Despite such a fun four days in LA I am more than thrilled to be home with Russ and Shay. I beat Carter and her friends home from Bonnaroo so I am still somewhat unsettled until I get my arms around my girl. I think it has been a very long six days at the music festival for her so she is looking forward to a shower, air conditioning and clean everything.
It was so worth my going cross country to see such wonderful friends, but it was not without pain. The pain comes in the form of all things transportation. I rented a car, which I am thankful, since I could have spent thousands of Uber dollars getting where I needed to be. The renting of the car was the least expensive part of having it, the parking of the car was outrageous.  
I had valet only parking at the hotel, which meant that not only was I charged for the parking, but the tipping every time I needed the car kept me constantly searching for small bills. Only strippers could ever have enough ones to satisfy all the LA valets.
The traffic! Even on twelve lane highways it was constantly bad. It never mattered where I was going I had to plan on an hour. First to get my car, second to get close to where I was going and third to park my car. On Saturday I went to a fabulous needlepoint store in Santa Monica and even there I had valet parking and had to get my ticket validated.
Validation is often a misnomer. At brunch on Sunday I had my parking validated and I still had to pay fourteen dollars and tip. Lord, imagine how much it would have been without validation. It was just brunch, not the academy awards.
Despite the constant flow of traffic, everywhere always, finding a gas station was not so easy. On my ride up the Pacific coast highway I drove six miles before I saw a gas station. May not sound that far, but I could have bought a Range Rover, shopped at a Ralph’s, Von’s or one of three Trader Joe’s along the way and had my choice of fish tacos every fifty yards yet no gas stations. Speaking of Range Rovers, I can scientifically say that there are more of them in LA than there are in the whole of the U.K. At any given moment on any road I was on I was never more than three cars from a Range Rover. 
This morning when I dropped my rental car off at Hertz and got on the bus to the terminal I was happy to not be driving. That was until my middle aged African American bus driver spent the whole trip telling me what a good job her President was doing for the country. I had to hold back when she told me she could not afford to move back east where she had come from the year before. What that President is doing for her that made things so great I could not tell. I was wishing for my rental car and the chance to over pay a valet to take it off my hands so I could drive myself up to the terminal.



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