Where I've Been: Back From Cali

So, you remember how my newly graduated brother got a job out on the west coast and was about to move there? Well, he was planning on driving because he's young and it turns out to be pretty expensive to ship your new car loaded down with all your crap across the country while you take flight. Driving across country with said car slightly less full of said crap makes sense especially when you have a friend, also starting a job in said west coast, to share the expenses and trip and eventual living quarters with. Plus, as I said, everyone should drive across the country at least once, if only to appreciate how nice it is to have airlines.

So my brother and this guy he knows from school both landed nice jobs out in nicer California that aren't too far from each other. They've gotten an apartment to share and the whole works. And they were planning on making the trip together. It's pretty amazing how well things fell into place for my brother. The only problem was the 11th hour flaking of his friend who was suddenly unable to drive across country for reasons to complicated and annoying to get into here. But understandable ones, let's just leave it at that. But reasons that left my brother faced with a drive from the metro Detroit area through to the greater Los Angeles area all by his lonesome. That's something like 2,000 miles. And let's just say our mother was freaking out about running off the road in the middle of the night because he'd been driving ten hours straight or something.

So, I got asked and since I didn't have anything better to do, I said, sure, I'll drive across country with you and catch a flight back. What the hell, right? The company gave my brother some moving money so it's not like it was going to be coming out of my pocket or anything. The last minute nature of it all, though, left me with little time to do much more than hastily pack a bag of clothes, toiletries, and my aging laptop and scramble out the door.

The trip itself was fairly uneventful. My family has long perfected the arts of passive aggressive silences and speaking a lot without actually saying anything so it's not like my brother and I had a bunch of long heart to heart conversations. Mostly it was, “Hey, corn.” “Yep. Nebraska.” “Yeah.” We stopped in Chicago to visit with some of my brother's friends. It was as lovely a city as ever. Visiting there always reminds me of everything my hometown of Detroit isn't. As in, active and vibrant and alive. Of course, that's probably just a memorable night of drunken revelry with a bunch of college age kids talking. We also took a little spin down route 66. Stopped by the Grand Canyon along the way, too. My brother was pretty anxious to get going so we didn't go hiking or on any of the trails or anything so, let's face it, there's only so much you can do with looking at a giant hole in the ground. But it means I can check off another of those “places to visit” off the list.

Otherwise, we only stopped to eat or at night to find a motel so splitting the time behind the wheel we could spend most of the day driving. My brother drives like a maniac, flying down the highway weaving in and out of traffic like he's playing Gran Turismo. I drive like a little old lady, hunched over, hands at ten and two (Well, okay, 11 and 3), constantly afraid of careening out of my lane and into other vehicles in a shower of twisting steel and glass. Both of us drive with one finger on the radio, flipping between stations for a choice blipvert of music with manic grace. Between the two of us, we made good time. It only took us about three days to get there which is pretty good since I always thought it took about five to get out west.

California was gorgeous, as you'd imagine. Although a bit sunny for someone who's genetic predisposed to foraging for tubers in a bog somewhere in northern Europe. I'm a pasty white motherfucker who sunburns just thinking about a cloudless day, I'm just saying. My brother's apartment is student-ish and about what you'd expect for someone who's just gotten his first job and bought sight unseen through the internets. But it's pretty close to where he works and, given the convoluted mess that is the LA freeway system, that's a good thing. Unfurnished, though, which means my brother is now spending time looking for a mattress and desk and everything else you can't strap into a Fusion and haul across the country.

Spent a day or so around LA, taking in the sights. Tried to look up a few friends in Silicon Valley, thought better of it since I haven't heard from them in a year, and let it go. And then it was time for my flight back home – went standby so I got the ticket for a song. Which was the part of the trip I'd been dreading since flying brings out the worst in my fear of heights. And of crashing to the ground in a vast heap of screaming metal and flame. But, no, I'm seriously afraid of heights and that dizzying glimpse out of the window of a city spiraling into (or out of, depending) view on landings is enough to make me go weak in the knees. Not to mention that queer sensation of rising and falling in the pit of my stomach like the one I always get in a tall elevator. By my departure time, I was a nervous wreck, having nearly convinced myself that fate was conspiring against me and I should cancel the flight so I could be the lucky fellow who'd avoided the destined crash by stepping off the plane at the last minute, and marvel to myself at the quirk of fate. I know I'm statistically far likelier to die in a car crash but getting on a plane just screws with my mind.

The flight was, of course, uneventful. I did, though, manage to sit next to a particularly lovely young woman. Thanks to the oft-neglected gift of the Blarney Stone and the smooth Irish charms flowing through my veins I talked her up and down the length of the flight. Even got her number – or the digital age equivalent - although I suspect the fatalistic attitude that the plane was about to drop from the sky at any moment had something to do with that. It's not exactly going to do me much good since she lives in DC but, you know, it's an accomplishment for me.

I seem to have arrived back just in time for torrential downpour of biblical proportions – I don't think it's stopped raining yet. And an unseasonal drop in the mercury that's especially stunning since when I stepped on the plane it was a balmy mid-80s. I'm wearing a long sleeve shirt at the moment. And I'm still cold.

Anyhow, it was a fun trip and one I'm glad I made over my misgivings. A little weird to be back after, well, getting out. If I learned one thing it's that satellite radio is really, really awesome. I don't know how I'm going to go back to terrestrial now.