So this weekend was Adventure Weekend. When saying that you must say it in a sing song voice and do jazz hands. Which is just what we did about every 20 minutes when getting lost, encountering odd things, or having things spilled on me.
So on Saturday Liz and I decided to head to downtown LA and check out the Red Bull soapbox derby. To do so we made the executive decision to take the subway. As I had taken it once before (livin' on the edge!) I figured this would be easy as there is roughly 2 lines, the end. And it would have been... had we known the stop. The conversation went like this:
Me: So what stop is it?
Liz: Um... it's on Grand Ave, and I think it said the Grand Ave. stop.
Me: Good enough for me, Grand Ave. here we come!
Readers, it was not the Grand Ave. stop. It was about 1.5 miles from the Grand Ave. stop. And in fact the Grand Ave. stop is well... in a bit of a rough neighborhood. (Also, side note, on the train was the world's smelliest man who coughed directly into Liz's hair for about 10 minutes. He ended up moving but was probably about 3 seconds away from death. We did get to name him though: Typhoid Harry.) But, as it was ADVENTURE DAY we went with it and hightailed it the hell out of there on foot.
Arriving at the derby about 30 minutes later we encountered this:
Yeah. It was a bit crowded. We hung out for about 20 minutes, just in time to see the Neverending Story soapbox (it ruled, I cheered) and then hightailed it to the nearest pub. It was upon rounding the corner towards the pub that we realized there was a subway stop RIGHT THERE. Like directly next to us, 2 feet away. Liz and I stared at each other, blinking, for about 5 minutes, shrugged and then drank. On the plus side getting home was significantly easier.
After getting home, we rested and then went to a birthday party. We were there approximately 45 minutes before a wee, very drunk girl, tripped and spilled her cosmo directly down the neck of my shirt. Internet, cosmos are sticky. After I dried off a bit I attempted to stick it out. And stick I did. To every available surface. There is nothing like a sugar coated sticky ass to round out Adventure Day 1.
Adventure Day 2 was a friend and I heading to the beach with her dog. Driving up the PCH we suddenly hit bad traffic. Like total stop. We sat there for about 15 minutes, engine off when we heard that the PCH was closed due to a bad accident. We decided to reroute over the canyon because how long could that take, right? 20 minutes? No... an hour. An hour of very winding roads. With a dog on my lap. A dog who gets car sick. Well...I got sharted on. Yes. I did. A dog sharted on me. On a mountain road. Above cloud level.
Thirty minutes later we arrived at the beach and I changed clothes. We then sat around and watched the sunset, drove to eat Italian food and went home. And then I threw my original outfit away. RIP awesome purple tank top.
Despite the unwanted substances directly on me it was an odd and wonderful weekend.