Woke up. Jason was still at work. Wally looked like he’d probably sleep all day if nobody bothered him. So I made my way to Jason’s room to try to sleep on an actual bed, but instead I just listened to that Bill Simmons’s podcast with Chuck Klosterman. Then Wally woke up and Jason came home. We played guitar and watched Starcraft videos while each of us showered and powdered our noses. Then we were on our way.
We met up with Wally’s cousin Laura and hit Sushiya, where we ordered sort of too much sushi. And some sake. Jason and Laura both drove so the party invitation list looked like this: Ces, Wally, sake jug. This was basically the beginning of undoing a month’s worth of workouts in a single weekend. We never made a verbal agreement, it just happened, but at each meal we challenged ourselves to eat more calories than the last. And we hit a home run every time we stepped up to the plate (no pun intended).
Wally picked up his paycheck and we stopped at the bank. It’s inside an Albertson’s so we pounded some energy drinks. One last stop at Wally’s house and we were off to Los Angeles. Make no mistake, when people think of California, they’re thinking of southern California. I think it’s the palm trees.
All I could really think of in the car were the lyrics to Murs “L.A.” Or I guess I should say I couldn’t think of them, which is why I couldn’t-stop-wouldn’t-stop. We saw a highway patrol car on the side of the road. Then we saw that one of them had a pistol out and arms raised. Then we saw a guy come out of the bushes looking like he just got caught by the police (think Fred Durst type, except homeless-er). Straight out of a boring segment of COPS.
We parked and did a little speed walking to the will-call area, focused. But not too focused to ignore twenty guys with cameras aimed at one of the entryways yelling “Hi Paula!” Abdul. She waved at us, and Jason got a pretty clear video of it:
We were slightly star struck, but we made our way to ticketing. I sort of didn’t tell the guys that I forgot to print the ticketmaster e-mail, so I was sort of nervous because I couldn’t remember if I needed it or not. I gave the lady my license and credit card then she told me to hold on. This is where I got sort of nervous again. I imagined her saying, “Oh you don’t have tickets.” or “Oh your tickets were for game 3.” Or her just not coming back at all. Sort of like the Beyond Belief episode where they stuff the kid in the closet and then they open it and he’s not there.
We finally got inside the arena. And everyone looked pissed at us for making them stand up in the aisle so we could get to our seats. ‘Scuse me, ‘scuse me, ‘scuse me, ‘scuse me, ‘scuse me, ‘scuse me. I looked at the game clock and figured out why they were irritated. We sat down, the horn sounded, and everyone else stood up, end of the first quarter. “Couldn’t these dumbasses wait ten seconds?” That was just a guess of their thoughts, but I bet it’s close.
The jumbotron was worth watching during timeouts, because they could always just show some random celebrity in the arena to get the crowd going. We saw Denzel and Jack. They also did the kiss camera. And I think everyone was waiting for the same thing I was waiting for, because the arena erupted when they showed David Beckham. And I think they usually show a clip from Rocky before the fourth quarter, but this time they showed Sly in the arena after the clip and the crowd went nuts.
At halftime we saw a guy rim out trying to win $260,000. It’s odd to think that one second he’s thinking of what kind of car to buy with 260,000 bucks without blowing all of it and the next second he’s thinking of probably nothing except that life sucks. And also the Jabbawockeez performed. I’m not gonna lie, when we saw the white masks on the big screen, we got pretty geeked. Kind of a nice surprise.
The game was a blowout. There’s not too much to say. They love Trevor Ariza—the whole hometown kid thing. And the crowd gets amped for those free tacos, though nobody seemed to realize that we already won them. (Spurs only had to score fewer than 100, but most people seemed to think that L.A. had to score more than 100 also.) To me, it always seems like Lamar Odom could score at will if he weren’t off by just that much. The people sitting around us weren’t too fond of Luke Walton and would jump on every mistake Pau made. But man do they love Kobe Bryant. When he stepped to the line, you better believe I chanted MVP as if the bandwagon’s wheels were coming off and only my screams could ratchet them back on. Overall, it was a fun time and definitely worth it.
We got souvenirs and took our pictures outside of Staples Center. Then it was off to get some food. I guess I talked enough about Roscoe’s previously. Bottom line: it’s pretty good—not for dieters. We went to the Hollywood one though; I’m pretty sure the songs are talking about the Inglewood location. I’m mostly guessing based on the songs and the movie The Wood.
The drive from Los Angeles to San Jose is long. About as long as you’d probably want to drive alone. I wasn’t alone so that’s another guess. We stopped for gas once to fill up and use the restroom. I was washing my hands when Wally came in, followed by the four extreme dudes straight out of Harold and Kumar and blazed out of their minds. I’m gonna paraphrase what Wally told me happened after I exited the bathroom.
So I’m peeing right? And there’s a guy standing at the sink waiting to use the urinal next and he says to me, “Dude… where are we?” And I say I’m not sure man. And he says, “Me either man. Where are we?” And I go to wash my hands in the sink except it turns out the guy wasn’t just standing there waiting, he was peeing in the sink. Time to get outta there.
We passed through what seemed like an hour’s worth of cow farms. And toward the end of the drive we passed through Gilroy, which is known for its garlic. And a garlic processing plant smells like garlic. Which smells better than hundreds of cows but not by much. Finally, we got to my place, fixed the beds, and that was my Friday.