5th
January 2017, Day 3 of Second Leg of LA – Day 2 in San Francisco
We
breakfasted again at our favourite café.
As we left afterwards, we were delighted to see a giant, steaming moist Mr Whippy turd in the shop entrance next
door, probably deposited there by a homeless person. Even the homeless have to shit but please,
for the love of God, find a public toilet.
Although this made me dry retch and my stomach roil so I had to work to
keep my breakfast down, the kids were pissing themselves laughing and The Captain
was making Henry the Third references that I’ve been hearing since the 90s and
which didn’t impress me then or now…Dad jokes, but what was astounding was that
they actually made the kids laugh.
We
caught a Cable Car opposite our hotel and had one of the most fantastic
experiences of our lives. The Cable Car
was full so we had to hang off the side…like we weren’t going to do that
anyway. Woot woot! It was exhilarating and scary all at once,
made more so when we hurtled past a truck and the fuckstick driver opened his
door and nearly ripped my tits off.
Thankfully the Cable Car driver dinged his bell like a psycho and the
fuckstick yanked his door shut just before he tore us all a new one. He must live on Nob Hill. The sudden braking and accelerating of the
Cable Car had Boy Wonder take a hit to the nuts with the side bar so he was
quiet and a pale shade of green for a while after we alighted the cable car.
We
had to return to the hotel for Boy Wonder to change his jeans because his nuts
were throbbing and he thought it might be because his jeans were tight. I think it might have been the jab to his
nads by the handrail but since I don’t have a set, I remained mute. The Captain thought it would be a grand idea
to climb a zillion steps today and as he sprinted up with Boy Wonder in tow,
and exhausted Miss Marvellous and I plotted their death as I puffed on my
Ventolin and thought villainous thoughts.
That
night, we caught the ferry to Alcatraz for the night tour of the notorious
prison. When we arrived, we stood in the
queue and shuffled past the crude open shower area and we were each given a
head set. There was a starting point and
we were taken on a personal guided tour at our own leisure. We could pause the headset if we wanted to
dwell in an area for a closer look. The
narrator was an ex prisoner who spent time at the famous prison and he entertained
us with tales of happenings from the perspective of an inmate. It was one of the most awesome and
educational things I’ve ever experienced.
It was fascinating to hear about the day to day life in the prison as
well as some well documented escape attempts, riots and some famous names who
spent time at the prison, one of which was Al Capone.
By
the time we had to venture back to the ferry, it was as cold as a witch's tit and I
wished I had the ability to teleport because a cold ferry trip back in the dead
of winter seemed too much for my nipples to bear. Thankfully, it was warm inside the boat below
deck and the trip was comfortable. This
is more than I could say for the car trip back because the traffic was really
heavy and the Captain was driving on the wrong side of the road to Australia
(which was stressing me out) and he broke the rules a couple of time (because
he doesn’t give a fuck) which made me aggressively nag him (because I DO give a fuck and that’s why I don’t have an outstanding warrant for
my arrest in this fucking country) until he cracked the shits and said “would
you like to drive?” Um no, no I would
not. I pulled my head in after that, the
poor bastard was negotiating driving in a foreign country and I needed to stow
my bitchiness.
After
we got back home and changed, we went to an Irish pub for dinner called Johnny
Foley’s Duelling Piano Bar; rocking name for an Irish establishment. Miss Marvellous and I had the Irish stew and
it was absolutely divine. This was our last night in San
Francisco before we had to drive back to Los Angeles
When
we returned, we sat in the lobby to update social media, The Captain decided
that the night before we get back to LA is the right time to book accommodation
for our last night in the USA. What the
fuck? I thought we had this all planned
and paid for…apparently not. I cannot
believe that after fucking around for a few minutes, he just gave up and booked
anything in the Marina Del Rey and the fucking room cost A$500 for one
night. The Marriott Santa Monica Le
Merigot had better have a gold bar of soap waiting for me to wash my bits and
arsehole with at that price. Afterwards,
when his insanity dissipated and he could see the look of horror on my face, he
conceded that he probably should have shopped around more. Fuck me, I didn’t realise we were leaking
hundred dollar bills out of our arses!
Jesus Christ on a popsicle stick!
6th
January 2017, Day 4 of Second Leg of LA – Trip Back to Los Angeles
This
was our last morning in San Francisco
Half
way through the trip, The Captain announced to me that when the kids have all
grown and left home and it’s just the two of us, we will return to the USA and
do a road trip holiday in a Winnebago.
Obviously he’s planning on divorcing me and taking someone else because
I am not up for days and weeks driving across the country in a giant house on
wheels. I would have to spend most days
perpetually stoned off my nut on travel sickness pills and he will soon tire of
the groaning, sleeping or worse, puking.
I’m not a driving holiday kind of girl.
Surely 27 years of being in my company has taught him that? Wishful thinking will not change my
susceptibility to motion sickness, dude, no matter how many magic lanterns you
rub. Soon after, we had a stop to break
up the trip and inhaled Macca's for the first time in the US. It was the same as home except nobody calls
it Maccas there. We Aussies like to
butcher everything with our slang.
The
hotel room was mediocre but I was past giving a shit. We had to hightail it into our room to
quickly get changed before we darted out to try to find something to eat before
the game. We went to a Mexican
restaurant which had waitresses who don’t actually wait on the tables. After perusing the menu and deciding on our
meal, we practically had to rugby tackle someone to get our order taken. Come the fuck on!! There were about seven
other people in the restaurant because it was still only late afternoon. We’re not asking for the world on a plate,
just a little service. Having said that,
when Jose finally made the nachos, they were gooey and yummy and hit the spot.
We
took the train to the NBA game. The
Captain was in charge of purchasing the train tickets (because none of us knew
what to do) and decided to use his million coins for the tickets. Finally, the Captain got to the front of the
queue and started fucking around with the tickets but nothing was
happening. Some older woman just came up
and did it for us because we’re all slightly touched in the head (and the queue
of people behind us were getting tetchy) so he gave her a $20 and didn’t get
any change. Who gives a fuck, thanks for
stepping in, Sister.
As we
got off the train and approached the Staple Centre on foot, Boy Wonder did all
but bar up when he saw the stadium up ahead.
He went all macho and teenage on us and started beating his chest and
bleating about it being the best day of his life. Get your hand off it, son, you’re only
fifteen years old. We were expected to
go all tourist with the camera and had to take photos of him out front of the
stadium, inside the stadium, in front of a Lakers Pole, holding a soft
drink. Dude, enough of this shit, we
can’t capture your joy on celluloid, let’s just get inside and find our
seats. But first, there were the Lakers
cheerleaders that the Captain had to get his photo with. Men a creepy when hot chicks are around.
Pleeeeeease!
Okay,
so Boy Wonder is a massive LA Lakers fan following his introduction to the team
by his older cousin. This was a home
game against Miami Heat and we were hoping to witness a win. It was an excellent game. There was a bout of fisticuffs, 2 players were
ejected due to said fisticuffs, my sphincter got a workout in the last seconds
and boy Wonder lost his voice screaming because the score was tight and if the
Lakers win and the score below 100, the whole audience gets free tacos. We missed out on Tacos by 1 fucking point
(Lakers scored 100)…but Lakers won so who gives a shit, right? We were going home the next night anyway so
who cares about tacos we’re never going to eat.
Miss Marvellous worked her face really hard to look like she was
enjoying herself. Then the young guys
behind us started with sarcastic yelling and trash talk and that had her enjoy the last half of the
game.
We caught
the train back and Boy Wonder spied a commuter wearing a Carlton Football
windcheater, but he resisted the urge to tap him on the shoulder. We were late getting back and everything
seemed to be closed and we were desperate for a meal. We hadn’t eaten since late afternoon at the
Mexican Cantina and we were getting really snippy and hangry. The only place we could find open was that
shitty café we went to the first time we were in Los Angeles and Santa Monica, where the
sandwiches were huge and you had to dislocate your jaw to take a bite then pour
half a can of drink in your head to soften the dry bread so you didn’t choke to
death on the bale of hay you were moving around inside your mouth. Fuck it, after more circle work and finding
no other eatery, we just had to settle for hay bales. Boy wonder was correct. The sandwiches required a flip-top head and a
large drink to consume but they weren’t cheap so after pulling the guts out of
my sandwich and eating it, I found I just couldn’t produce enough saliva to
finish the hay bale so I scrunched it up in my napkin and pretended I’d
finished it then surreptitiously dumped it in a bin when The Captain wasn’t
looking. Sorry mate, it just wasn’t
worth suffocating for.
7th
January 2017, Day 5 of Second Leg of LA – Time to go home
We
drove to Santa Monica Melbourne Santa Monica Australia
We
drove the hire car to the return depot at the airport and waited for the airport bus to
take us to our terminal. Again, we were
packed in like sardines, jerking around and waiting to get to our
terminal. The canvas was a bitch to
carry because it kept sagging in the middle like a skinny limp baby. The Captain had decided to take it as carry-on
luggage. Whilst at the airport, I edited
a few more chapters of my next book and before we knew it, we were boarding the
plane back home. I took pills to ensure
I didn’t become the Vomitron mid-flight again.
The Captain was a few rows behind us (because Felonious had to book his
tickets late) and we struck turbulence just after the kids and I had received
our meals and beverages. The cart was
suddenly hurried back up the aisle and the flight attendants strapped
themselves in until everything settled.
I resisted the urge to look down the aisle at him and hiss
“sucker.” Regardless, we ate our meals
in the midst of this turmoil, trying not to poke an eye out with my fork or
wash my face with my wine but the Captain was starving three rows down. By the time he got fed, we were replete and
dozing; a third of the way through a movie.
We
arrived in Melbourne
I
just couldn’t wait to get home to hug my cat and sleep in my own bed. The garden was alive and happy thanks to a
friend of Miss Marvellous who took care of catface and watered the garden. What a trip!
A month aboard for all four of us that cost close to A$50,000 but fuck
it, it’s a once in a lifetime experience and we had a ball…we have a full photo
album to show for it.
I
hope you enjoyed our trip.
Doona
