As told from the perspective of an inchworm.

What follows is a brief retelling of my adventure in California. Just so we can get back to normal life.

Monday.

Monday morning, bright and early, I headed out to the airport. I met up with the kids, cleared security, boarded my plane, and flew to California with the bare minimum of complications. A car was waiting for us when we arrived, so we grabbed our bags and took off to the hotel. Of course with things going so smoothly, the rooms wouldn’t possibly be ready when we arrive.

So, we checked our bags with the front desk and headed down to the restaurant for lunch (?) and a little breather. I figured starting the trip out with some good food was an excellent plan. Fish tacos? Don’t mind if I do. After our lunch-ish meal the rooms were ready. We dropped our gear off up there, picked our beds, and then headed to the Santa Monica pier for a walk about.

I saw some stuff, blah, blah, blah.

ZOLTAR!!!

Yeah. I made a wish. And Zoltar spoke.

Then I had fish n chips and crashed for the night. It was a good day.

Tuesday.

Tuesday was beach day. We headed out to the sandy shore early-ish. Mostly I had planned on spending the day taking photos. I succeeded in that task. This is when things began to get interesting.

We had been at the beach for about 30 minutes when we were approached by a dude carrying an old accordion-style camera and tripod. He introduced himself, said he was a photographer working on a project, and asked to take out photo. Sure. Why not?

So, his name is Shawn Robinson. And here is the photo he took of us:

 We’re totally famous now.

Anyway, Shawn turned out to be a pretty awesome dude and so I took a photo of him, too.

Keep in mind, I haven’t even been in this city for 24 hours and I’m already generating stories to tell on the website.

Anyway, the adventure continues. After beach time, we walk around at the pier some more. I ate a hotdog on a stick. The usual stuff. Then it is time for resting in the shade by the pool and reading some comics.

I am guessing the time we spent in the sun in the morning fried out collective brains. Because around 2-3 in the afternoon, we all decided to walk to Venice beach. From out hotel. Our brains must have been fried because we believed King Dingus when he said it was a five minute walk away. It is actually about 1.5 miles away. At a leisurely strolling speed, that’s a good 30-45 minutes away. So, by the time we reached Muscle Beach, we were spent. We grabbed some cool drinks and headed back.

The funny thing about heat exhaustion is that it sneaks up on you. I am used to Arkansas heat. Which means it is humid as balls and there is usually no consistent wind. This means you are aware of your perspiration because your clothes are visibly soaked in it. In California, you sweat and the cool breeze blowing off of the ocean immediately wicks it away, so you stay pretty dry. Also, not humid as balls, so it doesn’t seem as hot as it really is.

And don’t get me wrong, I had planned on the dehydration bit. I was consuming nothing but water in preparation for it. What I failed to realize was that walking around in the California sun for a few hours was equivalent to playing a sport of some kind in the Arkansas sun. And water is only part of the dehydration equation. I forgot all about electrolytes. You know. The things plants crave. My salts depleted and I boned myself.

The good news is that I immediately recognized what was happening and rested in the shade. As soon as we stopped, the others realized how wiped out they were too. We took a cab back to the hotel.

That little mistake pretty much wrecked me for all of the next day.

Wednesday

I did try to go take some photos Wednesday morning. That was dumb. I made it to the pier, before having to sit down in the shade. Thing number two that I learned about heat exhaustion is that it bones you for about 36 hours.

A weird thing did happen at the pier, though. I had gone to the pier to hit up the arcade for some Skee-ball and photo booth action. The arcade wasn’t open yet. But as I passed by the Zoltar machine, it started speaking and spit out a fortune. No one else was around. It just did this randomly. It was magical. So, I snagged my fortune and high-tailed it back to the hotel. I ate as closed to an Irish breakfast as I could and passed back out for a couple of hours. I then spent the remainder of the day lying on my bed reading comics and staring at the ocean. It wasn’t a bad day, it just wasn’t a great day. I had saved up that honor for Thursday.

Thursday

I got up and around a little sluggishly. I was still feeling the effects of the heat exhaustion. Around noon, Tiger picked me up from the hotel. We made it through the normal polite greetings and immediately dove into talking about comics. 45 seconds together and we are knees deep in nerdy talk. We headed from the hotel to pick up Bug from her work. She works for WIZARD WORLD. You know, the people that put on Comicons all over the country. They’re kind of a big deal in the nerd world. Anyway, Tiger and I got to see their offices. It was awesome. Granted it is just an office building where Bug works, but it was still the headquarters for all of the great Comicons. It was nerdy and magical.

From there, we headed to a place called Wurstküche for lunch. Sausages, yo. Sausages. I really wanted to try the rattlesnake and rabbit sausage or the duck & bacon sausage, but I only had room for one. Taking the advice of the veteran sausage eaters around me, I opted for the original bratwurst with sauerkraut and sweet peppers (they were supposed to be caramelized onions, but whatever). Two words. Holy. Shit. This sausage made every other sausage go crying back to momma. And the fries. (swoon)

From there, we headed to the Pie Hole (across the street). Here I talked to my dream girl (seriously, if you ever read this, marry me) in a straw hat for as long as possible before having to go eat the best damned piece of strawberry pie ever. And I despise cooked fruit. I could eat that pie everyday until I died (pied?) of pie overdose. Don’t even get me started on the chocolate pie with espresso whipped cream on top. Did I buy myself a Pie Hole t-shirt and coffee cup? Of course I did.

From there, the nerd trio headed to Meltdown Comics. This might be the best comic shop ever. They have a section of comics organized by author. You mean they treat comics like real books? Yes. With the love and respect they fucking deserve. I got the new issue of Rat Queens. Because I needed it.

From there, Tiger showed his stripes and was hell-bent and determined to get me to the In-n-Out Burger. He had to make sure I ate there. Had to. After an hour of trying to get to and in the place, he succeeded. I got double-doubled. And then we headed back to my hotel, where I would eat my deliciously greasy burger standing on the balcony, alone, with only the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach to keep me company. It was a perfect moment. Me, a double double, and the waves on a cool balcony of a fancy hotel.

Friday

I got up early, had breakfast and coffee, and packed my bag. It was time to come home. The driver picked us up from the hotel a bit early, so he took the scenic route to the airport. This gave us the opportunity to see a strip of over 200 homes, all designed and built by different architects. One last moment of beauty before we were swept back into the sea of TSA-herded travelers. The flight home was relatively uneventful. Except for that one guy who would not stop talking about nothing for 4 hours. And that screaming baby doing backup vocals for him. I could feel my will to live being sucked out of my eyeholes. Yeah.

And that was my California trip.

See ya’ tomorrow.

More soon. ~SC