Shit Happens in USA…Los Angeles & San Francisco – Part 1

2^nd January 2017, arrive back in Los Angeles

We arrived in Los Angeles from New York late in the evening.  We decided to stay at an airport hotel since we were driving to San Francisco in the morning.  LAX is a frigging nightmare.  Taxis and courtesy busses were just burling in and out of traffic with no apparent order.  Exasperated traffic cops yelled at idiot drivers who completely ignored their direction and one Asian driver, who obviously acquired his licence from the back of a cereal box, got a fist to the bonnet and a very erect finger jab by an angry black traffic controller.  Her booming voice held notes of warning and I’m sure the driver’s legs had turned to jelly because he looked shit scared.  I was on the other side of the road and I was shit scared.  My short time in this country has taught me that you just don’t piss off black women. 

I was surprised there were no fender benders given the chaos.  There were lots of horns though…American’s love sitting on a horn.  There were also lots of frustrated people, four of which were us.  We waited an eternity for our hotel curtesy bus for The Century Boulevard Marriot; even the usually unflappable Captain was looking worn of patience.  When we finally got all our cases in, we were packed in like sardines, jostling along until we reached our hotel.  There is nothing much to report about this night.  We had to be up early for the road trip tomorrow so we collapsed into a travel weary sleep of the dead.  I’m not looking forward to tomorrow…I fucking hate long car trips.

3^rd January 2017, Day 1 of Second Leg of LA – Trip to San Francisco

The Captain walked the short distance to the car hire company from our hotel while I checked us out.  Whilst in Reception, Boy Wonder annoyingly asked if we had the passports and cash again because he couldn’t wear his super hero cape much longer.  Can you fuck off, son?  Captain Fantastic arrived at our hotel looking larger than life on the wrong side of the hire car.  We hired a big Dodge (I did consider reminding the Captain that the car was not an extension of his dick but the size of the vehicle suggested he begged to differ).  Miss Marvellous dubbed the vehicle a ‘soccer mom car’.

The first thing we did in preparation for the road trip was drive back to the Killer Café in Marina Del Rey where we loaded up on food with a big breakfast before the long road trip.  The kids and I suffer from travel sickness, but I suffer the worst.  I even get sick on a swing so I was not overjoyed at the prospect of an 8-10 hour road trip to San Fran.  Before we left Melbourne, when I groaned at the prospect of the road trip and asked why we couldn’t fly, The Captain sold it to me as an amazing experience via the coastal route with lots of stops on the way for a coffee or happy snaps at some beautiful landmarks and places of notoriety on the way up.  This was a bullshit ruse and none of the above occurred.  Captain Fantastic decided that he just wanted to get the fuck there already and dissed the coastal scenic route for a drive straight up the guts.  He said we’d do the scenic tour on the way back.  Fuck you Captain.  Bastard!

Apart from the first few minutes after we took off on the highway and a plane coming in to land at LAX looked like it was going to crash right in front of us, the trip up was as boring as batshit.  There was fuck all to see except a bunch of hills and valleys, then just miles of farmland for hours…and lots of those weird things with a big head like a grasshopper that dig for oil in the ground…I think they’re actually land oil rigs???  There were acres of wind farms and the stinkiest place that my olfactories have ever had to encounter and which had me dry retching.  It was some kind of cattle farm and the cattle were so packed in so tightly in the giant field that they were a sea of black and brown, barely moving but obviously shitting and farting like it was an Olympic sport.  Fucking “Moooo!”  I couldn’t photograph any of it because the smell was so offensive that I had my whole face buried in my armpit trying to smell my own freshness rather than the methane, skin peeling stench that was going on outside of the car.  The Captain kept looking at me like I’m weird, I think his sniffer is dead. 

As we started to approach San Francisco, something set Mother Nature off and she threw the mother of all hissy fits and bucketed rain on us as we drove across the Oakland Bridge.  San Francisco looked black and white in the shitty picture Mother Nature was painting and I hoped her mood would improve soon and things would get better for our sightseeing adventures.

We stayed at the Westin, St Francis, and boy, what a posh place.  Even the loos in reception were shmancy (and Bogan that I am, I took photos of the said loos).  The Captain dropped us at Reception and went to find car parking because the concierge advised the ridiculous fee to park in the hotel parking would probably require us to sell one of the kids.  Miss Marvellous took off to visit the loo and Boy Wonder and I checked us all in.  As Boy Wonder and I approached the Receptionist, she greeted us with a sunny smile and queried “How can I help you two ladies?”  Boy Wonder, who had been mistaken for a woman again, groaned audibly next to me.  This was the third time in this country that he had been mistaken for a chick.  I spoke loudly, because he looks like a frigging guy and this woman was blind, stupid or both.  I introduced myself and my son.  She looked pointedly at Boy Wonder then started back pedalling and flapping her hands in apology but Boy Wonder was having none of it.  He said “don’t worry, I’m cutting it off as soon as I get back to Australia.  This is the third time I’ve been called a woman over here.”  She just kept on apologising and spewing words out of her mouth like vomit “…no, please don’t cut it off.  It looks really good on you.  You look like a boy, I just saw you hair and made a mistake.  Please don’t cut it.”  Save your breath lady, you insulted his manhood and completely emasculated him.  Now shut the fuck up and check us in, bitch. 

Miss Marvellous guffawed with mirth when Boy Wonder regaled her with the mistaken identity news.  She said “you’re either a really pretty boy or a really ugly chick.”  Way to go, kick him in the nuts while he’s down.  NICE!

We got up to our room and it was small but really cool.  The toiletries in our room had an absolutely fabulous scent and I wanted to douse myself in shower gel.  There was no wifi in the room, which pissed us all off.  We either had to pay an exorbitant amount of money if we wanted to access Wifi in the room or go to the lobby where wifi was free.  Fuck you guys, we’ll sit in the lobby every night like antisocial arseholes and update our Facebook and Snapchat. 

That night, we walked our surrounding streets looking for a place to eat.  San Francisco is as hilly as fuck!  Our gluteus and quad muscles certainly got a work out.  We walked through a neighbourhood called Nob Hill and I absolutely pissed myself…because I’m five. We found an Italian restaurant, which was just okay, but our expectations for good food in Los Angeles took a plummet after The Terrace shit-on-a-plate experience so the disappointment was minimal and we were hungry.

4^th January 2017, Day 2 of Second Leg of LA – Day 1 in San Francisco

The next morning we found a fabulous café that made great bagels and really good coffee and hot chocolate.  This became our daily morning ritual.  After breakfast, we drove to the Golden Gate Bridge.  The walk across was really cool and we took some gorgeous photos, despite Mother Nature’s surly mood, which gave us a grey mediocrity.  Boy Wonder found the experience was marred by his annoying sister, who leaned out over the bridge for better photographic memories, but had the poor boy’s balls tingling and his heart racing.  Absolutely no fucks were given by Miss Marvellous as she continued to traumatise her brother in the name of Polaroid excellence.  Captain Fantastic was in his element as this was one of the most coveted experiences in San Fran for him.

After the trek across the bridge and back again, we headed off to Pier 39.  Here we saw a herd of seals, lounging on the piers and barking loudly; diving in and out of the water and completely oblivious to us.  We walked to Fisherman’s Wharf and wandered through a sweets shop that had the kids buzzing with a sugar high.  After the lolly shop we indulged in the famous clam chowder.  This was served in a hollowed out loaf of bread, surrounded by bread pieces to dip in sop up the delicious soup.  This proved to be a very tasty and hearty meal and just the thing to thaw us out.

On the drive back home, the Captain stopped at the top of a windy road and asked if anyone in the car knew where we were. Silence was broken by two “‘no’s” and one “yes”…of all the occupants in the vehicle, it was Boy Wonder who knew where we were, much to the Captain’s joy, as he had driven (crashed and stacked, more like)  cars here in Watchdogs, an Xbox game.  For the love of God, he knew Venice Beach by the Xbox games and half of the places we visited in Los Angeles.  What the fuck is happening in the world??  Anyway, we were driving down Lombard street which was noted on the map as the ‘windiest street in San Francisco’ (as in wound, not blowing a gale) and thankfully, The Captain can actually drive so we didn’t stack but it was very windy and made very exciting by the stupid dumb-arsed sightseers who kept trying to die in front of the car on the way down as they darted across the road.  San Francisco is fucktard central.

We dined at another Italian restaurant and this one was a more superior event.  Eating was just getting to the point where we had to fill a hole inside our guts and not experience gastronomical joy.

Look out for the last instalment…Part 2