huntington beach
I’d hoped to sleep-in before taking the 11:30am flight to Orange County via Denver but, as usual, I awoke around 03:30am and couldn’t get back to sleep. I started doing some work, as all of my colleagues in Europe were online and working and I had the usual plethora of emails bombarding my mailbox. The excitement that I felt made it easy to work. I was excited because I was traveling to a punk rock and beer festival on Huntington Beach and had the added adventure of a stop over in Denver along the way.
I’d hoped to take the T from my house in Cambridge to South Station in Boston, where I’d get a bus to the airport, but it seemed there were severe delays and so I wrote off the idea, resigning myself to getting an Uber instead. Shortly before I ordered the uber, however, my friend messaged to say the delay had cleared and so I rushed straight out and onto the T. $2.25 and I was there in less than one hour. An Uber would have cost me $40 and would have spent a long time in traffic.
I had a bloody Mary and an Omelette before boarding the plane and the flight itself became an emotional affair as I read A long way home by Saroo Brierly which made me feel a tremendous distance from, and longing for, my family. We landed in Denver early and I was relived because I thought there’d be a long wait to go through security again, but I underestimated American airports and the gate was right in front of the one at which I landed, which gave me time to buy a snack and a bottle of water. Yes, I did look for a bar and was planning to have a beer but the two in the airport were crowded and I didn’t feel like engaging in another random conversation with a total stranger as seemed to be happening to me so often in bars.
I boarded the plane to California and spent almost two solid hours staring out of the window at the desert and the mountains as we flew down towards Santa Ana. I thought that it was incredible that Bad Religion’s ‘Los Angeles is Burning’ came on as we were flying into Santa Ana over the hills, the mansions, the pool, the cars and the city of bright lights. The flight was smooth and we landed. I needed a drink. I ordered an Uber and was picked up by a young guy who showed me YouTube videos on his phone of his very talented 16 year old daughter who was the guitarist in a classic rock group. He mentioned a lot of celebrities and told some great stories as he drove me along the Pacific Coast Highway and my excitement grew. The sun was starting to set over the ocean.
I checked into my hotel as fast as I could but the lady at the reception wanted to chat and delayed me somewhat. I ran to my room, dropped my bag, changed into flip flops and walked instantly to the beach. I arrived a few moments after the sun had sunken beneath the horizon but the sky was still ablaze in a beautiful riot of pink and orange light. I took a photo of the beach, the water, and the sky, and as I was about to take the shot I saw three birds flying towards me. I paused to wait for them and captured one of my favourite photos.
A beautiful young woman walked onto the beach just behind me and she sat beside where I was taking the photo. I was tempted to speak to her but realised that that is often what is wrong with the world… people are never left in peace. Women especially are never left in peace. But, at the same time, sometimes people seem so lonely that it is difficult to know if, at times, they may be longing for someone to talk to. I left her in peace and walked further down the beach then cut off into the little roads that ran parallel, where I discovered some fantastic Halloween decorations. Past those I crossed onto the Pacific Coast Highway and crossed it at the traffic lights, the only pedestrian, towards a little collection of restaurants that I’d seen on the way in. There was also a brewery there named Riip Brewing company and so I went in there for a beer. There were many people who were obviously there for the punk rock show the next day and as I sat at the bar the bar lady began to speak to me. She asked where I was from and asked if I was in a band and if we were playing at the festival. I’m not sure why she thought that but it was a great night of excitement and anticipation. I went back to the hotel early as I was planning to watch an English football match on TV at 04:30 in the morning.
I went to sleep and had a dream that I was watching one of the bands play, the headlining band, Americans who are very rich from their years of success and their record company, and the vocalist was lecturing his bandmates saying ‘if we become complacent we could lose everything we have and end up having to live like people in England’, which made me laugh.
I woke up at 03:30 and was wide awake with excitement. I made some coffee and spent one hour chatting to my friends in Europe before watching the game at 04:30. Watching the English football is a binding experience with my father. Even across the world (he lives in South Africa) we voice message each other throughout the game to talk about every event. It is fun and both of us see this time as our time.
At 06:30 I went to the breakfast room to get some orange juice and was surprised to find a guy sitting on the couch in the room watching the news. News of Trump’s wall fell like slaps to the face from the TV screen and this individual sat in the couch looking up at the screen, 06:30 Saturday morning. I was perplexed by his presence there. Clearly not a hotel employee he simply wasn’t doing anything. He didn’t seem to have come in off the streets. Oddly, and I still think about this, each morning I was there I ended up, unfortunately, visiting that breakfast room at 06:30 and, each morning, a different gentleman sat in that same chair staring up at the TV screen seemingly feeding on the bad news it vomited out. Who were these guys? Why were they there simply sitting around, doing nothing, not eating breakfast?
After reading and lazing in the room for some time I started to get ready… excited to walk along the beach, excited to see the venue, and excited about the bands I would see and the people I’d meet throughout the day. Exiting the hotel I turned right, away from the festival site, so that I could see more of the fascinating buildings and places along the Pacific Coast Highway and then, ultimately, cross it so that I could cover more of the beach. It’s not every day that one is able to go to watch Bad Religion and NOFX on the beach wearing flip flops. I wanted to drink this in.
I walked past a Kayak club and a surf shop. As I crossed the road to walk towards the beach I discovered a restaurant that I decided I’d eat at at some point in the coming day or two. Entering onto the beach I looked at the sky to see the cloud cover gradually fading into a deep blue as the sun started to shine through. I hoped for cover for a little while longer so that I wouldn’t burn too soon. I’d forgotten to bring sunblock in spite of the fact that so many people had reminded me to do so.
Walking along the beach, close to the water, I felt an incredible sense of peace. No rush, no traffic, no work, no need to get into a car or a train or a plane… just a walk along this beautiful beach towards the glory of music and alcohol combined. I could see the stage lurking in the morning mist up ahead and it filled me with a thrill as I turned to my right and saw dolphins swimming up the coast line beside me, almost within reach of the surfers who were awaiting the next wave.
Arriving at the venue I walked to the entrance and asked the beautiful ladies working there if it was possible to go in and have a breakfast beer. They laughed and explained that there was no entry until 12:00 but that I could check in and receive my entry disc. I did so and then continued walking along the beach. I called my friend in England and we chatted as I sat down on the sand and watched more dolphins swimming by.
Forty minutes or so before the concert started I decided to go and get in line to enter as soon as the doors opened. The initial phase of the festival was a walk-through hundreds of stalls at which brewing companies from around the US were handing out free tasters of beer. The sun had now emerged in full force and not a trace of cloud remained in the sky. It was beautiful and with a slight chill to the October morning air it was possible to feel the direct attack the sun was making upon the neck and arms of those with fairer British skin such as myself as we stood in line awaiting the opening of the gate. Being alone, I could not help but hear the conversations people were having around me and, as you know, in these situations, people often speak loudly so that everyone around them may be delighted by the speaker’s wisdom and wit. The gentleman in front of me was an enormous man and spoke slowly, as if he had minor brain damage, to his girlfriend who was lurking somewhere down below in his mountainous shadow. It seemed they had experienced a negative Uber ride to the venue and this giant had hurt his arm punching the Uber car. Yes, you read it correctly, punching the Uber car. He was explaining over and over again how angry he was and then started to descend into racist comments added to which he said ‘he probably doesn’t know that I am a veteran. Or maybe he knows that and realises I probably killed some of his friends in Iraq. Can you believe that he said “fuck Trump!”? I am going to get him fired. I just want him to be fired.’ His girlfriend looked at him in disgust as he continued ‘I was a good soldier. I was a great soldier’. At this point I put my earphones back in and started to listen to music as loud as I possibly could and diverted my entire body to face the ocean so as not to be pulled into eye contact or any form of interaction with this person. It was clear what we were dealing with and I didn’t want any part of that.
Fortunately, at that point, the staff invited people to enter. After a quick bag search I was handed a little ‘punk n brew’ goblet for beer tasting and I walked to the first few tents and decided on a taster. I was feeling shaky because I had walked quite a great distance over the sand and it was now the equivalent of 3:30pm Boston time. I’d only eaten a banana. I realised I needed food but wanted to try some of the beers first. The beers were varied and plentiful and I was able to quickly have quite a lot. I was buzzing. Starving, I walked through to the food stalls and bought something to eat. Something relatively small so that I could go back to the beer stalls.
The day and the buzz of inebriation progressed and just over one hour after entry the first band started to play on a little stage away from the main stage. I stood on the beach sand, beer in hand, and watched The Hilltop Rats play. My elation was starting to make me feel giddy. I couldn’t quite believe the fact that I was standing on a beautiful beach in California, drinking good beer, surrounded by fascinating people, awaiting live performances by Bad Religion and NOFX. The afternoon turned into a blur in which I met many different people from around America, drank great amounts of alcohol and consumed large quantities of junk food. There were struggles to find a vacant loo and moments of distress as a result of this but, once Bad Religion started to play, all had settled and I sang and danced to each song they played. They were exceptional. NOFX less so.
During the NOFX set I turned to look behind me and there was a lady standing right beside me wearing a hoody with the hood up and she was shivering. She smiled and I instinctually touched her hood and asked her if she was okay. She said that she was a little bit cold but okay and then moved to my side and asked where I was from. I told her I was from England and when I did so, a couple on the other side of me joined in the conversation saying that they were from England (the lady) and Ireland (the gentleman). The four of us spoke and listened to the songs and then, once the show as over, decided to leave together to go and get a drink in a nearby bar. However, by the time we reached the exit, hoody girl and I had lost the other two. Hoody girl was from Dallas but lived in Orange country, she was tattooed from neck to toe, had short hair and wore glasses. She looked like a sophisticated punk. Her name was Mary. We found a bar but it was close to the streets I had explored the night before so I took her to show her the Halloween decorations I had seen. When we got to the little garden in which there was a massive, lit up, death-like creature, we discovered that amongst the other creatures in the garden, one had no lights and was not moving as the rest were. Mary commented that it was not working and within moments a figure appeared wearing an Ice Hockey mask. Mary and I both gasped and Mary grabbed my arm and half hid behind me. The masked man said nothing but started to work on the non-functional creature. Suddenly, in a nasal voice, he said ‘ahh, damn, the battery is dead.’ Mary and I laughed and as we were laughing and shaking our heads in disbelief, another man appeared, an old man with a long white beard and a glass of whiskey in his hand. He appeared from one of the neighbouring streets. ‘I hope this creep isn’t bothering you’, he said with a laugh as he spilled the contents of his drink onto his shirt. ‘He is trying to get all of his creatures to come to life’ said Mary. I suggested we head to the bar and as we walked, the old man walked beside us. Fortunately, he was the neighbour of Mr. Hockey Mask and so he went into his house leaving Mary and I in peace to walk the rest of the way.
When we entered the bar it was full of people in Halloween costumes mingling with punks who’d been at the festival. I recognised some of them as those I’d met earlier and so we all started to drink and talk. Some of the Hilltop Rats were there too. It turned into a very vibrant occasion with the energy in the air from the festival, the parties, Halloween… and then there was a fight between some of the punk girls and many people went running to break it up and to get involved in the drama. I stayed at the bar and continued to drink. Mary ran back and told me the full details of what was happening in the lady’s restroom and then the bell rang for last round. We had another drink and left. It was a beautiful night so we walked to the beach. Sitting at the lifeguard’s station we watched the ocean and spoke and then kissed. Mary asked if she could come to my hotel room to use the bathroom. I was so drunk, so tired, so sunburnt, all I wanted to do was get into bed and sleep and spend the next day reflecting upon the events of the weekend. Mary realised this and, after using the loo, ordered an Uber to take her home.
Awaking in the morning I discovered that Mary had left her poster that had been signed by NOFX and I felt a little bit frustrated at the thought of having to make arrangements for a meeting at a specific time. Not because of Mary, she was lovely, but because I spend all week running from one meeting to another and trying to manage time to fit things in… so when it is weekend, and especially when it is a punk and beer festival weekend, the last things that I want is planning and time restrictions. I went to the beach and sat on the sand where I read. I went to a Mexican restaurant for lunch and then went to the brewery for a beer and met two old Californian men who sat with me. One of them had lived in Dorking, England, which is a town I used to spend many weekends in being the town closest to the one I lived in. Mary sent me a message and asked if she could come for her poster, and she did, but it was a brief encounter and we both went on with our days. I told her I was going for dinner and wanted to invite her along but, for some strange reason, I didn’t. I just didn’t want to bring about complication or cause any difficulties in having to negotiate some form of emotion related to a person on the opposite end of the United States. I drank a lot and went for dinner and drank more.
When I awoke in the morning I ordered an Uber… destination Miami international. I didn’t even realise. The driver arrived and said ‘man, I cannot drive you to Miami.’ I still didn’t realise and I asked ‘why, is there a problem with the roads?’ The driver looked at me in his rear view mirror in terror and then it struck me… I was in California and not Florida. ‘I am so sorry, man, I am hungover and under slept, please drive me to John Wayne.’ It turns out the driver was one of the nicest guys I have ever met and I made it safely to John Wayne airport. Thus ended one of the greatest weekends of my life.
I’d hoped to take the T from my house in Cambridge to South Station in Boston, where I’d get a bus to the airport, but it seemed there were severe delays and so I wrote off the idea, resigning myself to getting an Uber instead. Shortly before I ordered the uber, however, my friend messaged to say the delay had cleared and so I rushed straight out and onto the T. $2.25 and I was there in less than one hour. An Uber would have cost me $40 and would have spent a long time in traffic.
I had a bloody Mary and an Omelette before boarding the plane and the flight itself became an emotional affair as I read A long way home by Saroo Brierly which made me feel a tremendous distance from, and longing for, my family. We landed in Denver early and I was relived because I thought there’d be a long wait to go through security again, but I underestimated American airports and the gate was right in front of the one at which I landed, which gave me time to buy a snack and a bottle of water. Yes, I did look for a bar and was planning to have a beer but the two in the airport were crowded and I didn’t feel like engaging in another random conversation with a total stranger as seemed to be happening to me so often in bars.
I boarded the plane to California and spent almost two solid hours staring out of the window at the desert and the mountains as we flew down towards Santa Ana. I thought that it was incredible that Bad Religion’s ‘Los Angeles is Burning’ came on as we were flying into Santa Ana over the hills, the mansions, the pool, the cars and the city of bright lights. The flight was smooth and we landed. I needed a drink. I ordered an Uber and was picked up by a young guy who showed me YouTube videos on his phone of his very talented 16 year old daughter who was the guitarist in a classic rock group. He mentioned a lot of celebrities and told some great stories as he drove me along the Pacific Coast Highway and my excitement grew. The sun was starting to set over the ocean.
I checked into my hotel as fast as I could but the lady at the reception wanted to chat and delayed me somewhat. I ran to my room, dropped my bag, changed into flip flops and walked instantly to the beach. I arrived a few moments after the sun had sunken beneath the horizon but the sky was still ablaze in a beautiful riot of pink and orange light. I took a photo of the beach, the water, and the sky, and as I was about to take the shot I saw three birds flying towards me. I paused to wait for them and captured one of my favourite photos.
A beautiful young woman walked onto the beach just behind me and she sat beside where I was taking the photo. I was tempted to speak to her but realised that that is often what is wrong with the world… people are never left in peace. Women especially are never left in peace. But, at the same time, sometimes people seem so lonely that it is difficult to know if, at times, they may be longing for someone to talk to. I left her in peace and walked further down the beach then cut off into the little roads that ran parallel, where I discovered some fantastic Halloween decorations. Past those I crossed onto the Pacific Coast Highway and crossed it at the traffic lights, the only pedestrian, towards a little collection of restaurants that I’d seen on the way in. There was also a brewery there named Riip Brewing company and so I went in there for a beer. There were many people who were obviously there for the punk rock show the next day and as I sat at the bar the bar lady began to speak to me. She asked where I was from and asked if I was in a band and if we were playing at the festival. I’m not sure why she thought that but it was a great night of excitement and anticipation. I went back to the hotel early as I was planning to watch an English football match on TV at 04:30 in the morning.
I went to sleep and had a dream that I was watching one of the bands play, the headlining band, Americans who are very rich from their years of success and their record company, and the vocalist was lecturing his bandmates saying ‘if we become complacent we could lose everything we have and end up having to live like people in England’, which made me laugh.
I woke up at 03:30 and was wide awake with excitement. I made some coffee and spent one hour chatting to my friends in Europe before watching the game at 04:30. Watching the English football is a binding experience with my father. Even across the world (he lives in South Africa) we voice message each other throughout the game to talk about every event. It is fun and both of us see this time as our time.
At 06:30 I went to the breakfast room to get some orange juice and was surprised to find a guy sitting on the couch in the room watching the news. News of Trump’s wall fell like slaps to the face from the TV screen and this individual sat in the couch looking up at the screen, 06:30 Saturday morning. I was perplexed by his presence there. Clearly not a hotel employee he simply wasn’t doing anything. He didn’t seem to have come in off the streets. Oddly, and I still think about this, each morning I was there I ended up, unfortunately, visiting that breakfast room at 06:30 and, each morning, a different gentleman sat in that same chair staring up at the TV screen seemingly feeding on the bad news it vomited out. Who were these guys? Why were they there simply sitting around, doing nothing, not eating breakfast?
After reading and lazing in the room for some time I started to get ready… excited to walk along the beach, excited to see the venue, and excited about the bands I would see and the people I’d meet throughout the day. Exiting the hotel I turned right, away from the festival site, so that I could see more of the fascinating buildings and places along the Pacific Coast Highway and then, ultimately, cross it so that I could cover more of the beach. It’s not every day that one is able to go to watch Bad Religion and NOFX on the beach wearing flip flops. I wanted to drink this in.
I walked past a Kayak club and a surf shop. As I crossed the road to walk towards the beach I discovered a restaurant that I decided I’d eat at at some point in the coming day or two. Entering onto the beach I looked at the sky to see the cloud cover gradually fading into a deep blue as the sun started to shine through. I hoped for cover for a little while longer so that I wouldn’t burn too soon. I’d forgotten to bring sunblock in spite of the fact that so many people had reminded me to do so.
Walking along the beach, close to the water, I felt an incredible sense of peace. No rush, no traffic, no work, no need to get into a car or a train or a plane… just a walk along this beautiful beach towards the glory of music and alcohol combined. I could see the stage lurking in the morning mist up ahead and it filled me with a thrill as I turned to my right and saw dolphins swimming up the coast line beside me, almost within reach of the surfers who were awaiting the next wave.
Arriving at the venue I walked to the entrance and asked the beautiful ladies working there if it was possible to go in and have a breakfast beer. They laughed and explained that there was no entry until 12:00 but that I could check in and receive my entry disc. I did so and then continued walking along the beach. I called my friend in England and we chatted as I sat down on the sand and watched more dolphins swimming by.
Forty minutes or so before the concert started I decided to go and get in line to enter as soon as the doors opened. The initial phase of the festival was a walk-through hundreds of stalls at which brewing companies from around the US were handing out free tasters of beer. The sun had now emerged in full force and not a trace of cloud remained in the sky. It was beautiful and with a slight chill to the October morning air it was possible to feel the direct attack the sun was making upon the neck and arms of those with fairer British skin such as myself as we stood in line awaiting the opening of the gate. Being alone, I could not help but hear the conversations people were having around me and, as you know, in these situations, people often speak loudly so that everyone around them may be delighted by the speaker’s wisdom and wit. The gentleman in front of me was an enormous man and spoke slowly, as if he had minor brain damage, to his girlfriend who was lurking somewhere down below in his mountainous shadow. It seemed they had experienced a negative Uber ride to the venue and this giant had hurt his arm punching the Uber car. Yes, you read it correctly, punching the Uber car. He was explaining over and over again how angry he was and then started to descend into racist comments added to which he said ‘he probably doesn’t know that I am a veteran. Or maybe he knows that and realises I probably killed some of his friends in Iraq. Can you believe that he said “fuck Trump!”? I am going to get him fired. I just want him to be fired.’ His girlfriend looked at him in disgust as he continued ‘I was a good soldier. I was a great soldier’. At this point I put my earphones back in and started to listen to music as loud as I possibly could and diverted my entire body to face the ocean so as not to be pulled into eye contact or any form of interaction with this person. It was clear what we were dealing with and I didn’t want any part of that.
Fortunately, at that point, the staff invited people to enter. After a quick bag search I was handed a little ‘punk n brew’ goblet for beer tasting and I walked to the first few tents and decided on a taster. I was feeling shaky because I had walked quite a great distance over the sand and it was now the equivalent of 3:30pm Boston time. I’d only eaten a banana. I realised I needed food but wanted to try some of the beers first. The beers were varied and plentiful and I was able to quickly have quite a lot. I was buzzing. Starving, I walked through to the food stalls and bought something to eat. Something relatively small so that I could go back to the beer stalls.
The day and the buzz of inebriation progressed and just over one hour after entry the first band started to play on a little stage away from the main stage. I stood on the beach sand, beer in hand, and watched The Hilltop Rats play. My elation was starting to make me feel giddy. I couldn’t quite believe the fact that I was standing on a beautiful beach in California, drinking good beer, surrounded by fascinating people, awaiting live performances by Bad Religion and NOFX. The afternoon turned into a blur in which I met many different people from around America, drank great amounts of alcohol and consumed large quantities of junk food. There were struggles to find a vacant loo and moments of distress as a result of this but, once Bad Religion started to play, all had settled and I sang and danced to each song they played. They were exceptional. NOFX less so.
During the NOFX set I turned to look behind me and there was a lady standing right beside me wearing a hoody with the hood up and she was shivering. She smiled and I instinctually touched her hood and asked her if she was okay. She said that she was a little bit cold but okay and then moved to my side and asked where I was from. I told her I was from England and when I did so, a couple on the other side of me joined in the conversation saying that they were from England (the lady) and Ireland (the gentleman). The four of us spoke and listened to the songs and then, once the show as over, decided to leave together to go and get a drink in a nearby bar. However, by the time we reached the exit, hoody girl and I had lost the other two. Hoody girl was from Dallas but lived in Orange country, she was tattooed from neck to toe, had short hair and wore glasses. She looked like a sophisticated punk. Her name was Mary. We found a bar but it was close to the streets I had explored the night before so I took her to show her the Halloween decorations I had seen. When we got to the little garden in which there was a massive, lit up, death-like creature, we discovered that amongst the other creatures in the garden, one had no lights and was not moving as the rest were. Mary commented that it was not working and within moments a figure appeared wearing an Ice Hockey mask. Mary and I both gasped and Mary grabbed my arm and half hid behind me. The masked man said nothing but started to work on the non-functional creature. Suddenly, in a nasal voice, he said ‘ahh, damn, the battery is dead.’ Mary and I laughed and as we were laughing and shaking our heads in disbelief, another man appeared, an old man with a long white beard and a glass of whiskey in his hand. He appeared from one of the neighbouring streets. ‘I hope this creep isn’t bothering you’, he said with a laugh as he spilled the contents of his drink onto his shirt. ‘He is trying to get all of his creatures to come to life’ said Mary. I suggested we head to the bar and as we walked, the old man walked beside us. Fortunately, he was the neighbour of Mr. Hockey Mask and so he went into his house leaving Mary and I in peace to walk the rest of the way.
When we entered the bar it was full of people in Halloween costumes mingling with punks who’d been at the festival. I recognised some of them as those I’d met earlier and so we all started to drink and talk. Some of the Hilltop Rats were there too. It turned into a very vibrant occasion with the energy in the air from the festival, the parties, Halloween… and then there was a fight between some of the punk girls and many people went running to break it up and to get involved in the drama. I stayed at the bar and continued to drink. Mary ran back and told me the full details of what was happening in the lady’s restroom and then the bell rang for last round. We had another drink and left. It was a beautiful night so we walked to the beach. Sitting at the lifeguard’s station we watched the ocean and spoke and then kissed. Mary asked if she could come to my hotel room to use the bathroom. I was so drunk, so tired, so sunburnt, all I wanted to do was get into bed and sleep and spend the next day reflecting upon the events of the weekend. Mary realised this and, after using the loo, ordered an Uber to take her home.
Awaking in the morning I discovered that Mary had left her poster that had been signed by NOFX and I felt a little bit frustrated at the thought of having to make arrangements for a meeting at a specific time. Not because of Mary, she was lovely, but because I spend all week running from one meeting to another and trying to manage time to fit things in… so when it is weekend, and especially when it is a punk and beer festival weekend, the last things that I want is planning and time restrictions. I went to the beach and sat on the sand where I read. I went to a Mexican restaurant for lunch and then went to the brewery for a beer and met two old Californian men who sat with me. One of them had lived in Dorking, England, which is a town I used to spend many weekends in being the town closest to the one I lived in. Mary sent me a message and asked if she could come for her poster, and she did, but it was a brief encounter and we both went on with our days. I told her I was going for dinner and wanted to invite her along but, for some strange reason, I didn’t. I just didn’t want to bring about complication or cause any difficulties in having to negotiate some form of emotion related to a person on the opposite end of the United States. I drank a lot and went for dinner and drank more.
When I awoke in the morning I ordered an Uber… destination Miami international. I didn’t even realise. The driver arrived and said ‘man, I cannot drive you to Miami.’ I still didn’t realise and I asked ‘why, is there a problem with the roads?’ The driver looked at me in his rear view mirror in terror and then it struck me… I was in California and not Florida. ‘I am so sorry, man, I am hungover and under slept, please drive me to John Wayne.’ It turns out the driver was one of the nicest guys I have ever met and I made it safely to John Wayne airport. Thus ended one of the greatest weekends of my life.
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