In August 2010, Keri (my fiancee lady-friend, for those that do not know) and I embarked on a little trip up Pacific Coast Highway in beautiful, sunny California*. We started in San Diego, and drove north (duh) to San Francisco. This trip was amazing for roughly 2 million reasons, including the literal 30-40 degree difference between LA and San Fran that we definitely did not pack for. Who knew October was the warm month in San Francisco?
Answer: We did NOT.
The first few nights, we were in San Diego. The Whale's Vagina. It's nice.
Ok, so then we took San Diego public tran - not recommended - and got a little rental car and off we went. The next 4 nights we were going to camp out, and then upon arriving in Sanny Franny (San Francisco - that's what I like to call it. Don't judge.) we'd get a hotel for the last couple of nights.
PAUSE.
I just felt you should know that I am stifling the VERY strong urge to give you a play by play of this trip it was so flipping amazing. But I will not, even though you would love every. single. minute. of it.
PLAY.
We drove from the Whale's Vagina up to Torrey Pines and then to LA. We did the Walk of Fame and I freaked out and took a picture of me with an empty star and now it's mine. One day my name and tiny hands will be on it AND I WILL BE SO PUMPED.
Ok, so also, it's hot in LA in August, which is only important because now I live there**. I felt like an egg frying on the pavement. So I suppose that star has already been marked mine, as some of my flesh melted off onto it...wo. I'm getting gross.
It was hot. We'll leave it at that.
Also, I will tell you this. Now that I'm living here I can absolutely say this with 100% certainty, but LA traffic is the dumbest thing I have EVER encountered in my life. Also the 405 when you are not familiar with it can be the scariest thing you'll ever encounter in your life. We got lost leaving LA (easy to do) and ended up on the 405. I managed, only by the grace of God, to maneuver us around LA and we ended up on Mulholland Dr., taking photos of the Hollywood sign with a lovely group of tourists who were part of some celebrity houses tour nonsense. You better believe we took extra pics there so I could get a firsthand look at whose house we'll later model our mansion after. :) It was fun and we saw Ice-T's house (courtesy of that lovely tour guide who just so happened to be pointing and talking while we were awkwardly loitering) and it's lovely.
NEXT.
We finally end up back on Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) and are in Malibu at our campsite faster than we could blink. Now that I live here, I feel REALLY stupid, because we were literally 15 miles west of tons of delicious restaurants, but we were so hungry that we continued driving north for somewhere in the realm of I have no idea how many miles. Somewhere around 30 minutes later, we ended up in a parking lot with a CVS and a restaurant called Sharky's (they are everywhere here, and I am feeling more directionally challenged the further we dive into this story).
Ok, so we head back to the campsite after eating, and we set up our tent and the sun is setting, and I am flooded with thousands of memories of my childhood when I lived on St. Simons Island, Georgia.
Keri and I sat on the rocks right where the water breaks, a mere 50 or 60 ft from our tent, and soaked it all in. The sun setting, the smell of the Pacific, the sound of the waves hitting the rocks. I'm literally misting up thinking about it.
There was a dude and his two little kids camping right next to us. They were adorable. We chatted and the guy was super friendly, and offered us hot dogs, which we did NOT take. Thank goodness. In the middle of the night, he was barfing, and it was NOT adorable. Beautiful waves crashing on the rocks is totally overshadowed when someone is hurling 15 feet from you. Also, it's cold at night. This is something I'm aware of, having lived by the ocean for almost 6 years, but had forgotten. Plus we had limited blanket space and such, blah blah. Needless to say, the equation went like this.
Freezing cold + barfing guy = Candice and Keri sleeping in a car.
We woke up to the sound of the kids next to us running around while their dad made breakfast. We threw our shoes on and ran to the water. There is NOTHING like the feel of the ocean breeze on your face first thing in the morning. It's so crisp, and the ocean is just waking up. It's amazing.
I should now make you aware that I LOVE sea creatures. I mean, it's a borderline obsession. When I was 10, my parents adopted Orcas for my sister and I for Christmas. It was literally THE BEST DAY EVER.
Look, everything that lives in the ocean amazes me. They are huge and graceful and they all literally take my breath away. I was going to be a marine biologist, but I have ADD and kept changing my mind. Shit happens.
That said, you can obviously understand my disappointment that we had been near the ocean for something like 3 days and I had only seen birds. I hate birds. Love sea creatures. Hate birds. Got it?
I was distraught. I remember telling Keri that if we see no sea creatures on this entire 10 day extravaganza, this trip will be a bust.
I'm also melodramatic. Did I mention I'm living in LA to pursue my dream of acting?
Here's the glory of being a grown up. There's a point in your life when you realize that if you want something bad enough, you've got to do EVERYTHING you know how to do to make it happen. So here's how my 'make sea creatures appear' checklist looked after 3 days:
1) Pray. - Check
2) Obessively watch the ocean, while still attempting to drive. - Check, although not recommended.
3) Whisper sweet nothings to the ocean while you watch the sun set. - Check.
4) Speak dolphin.
THAT'S IT. I figured the last one was a bit far fetched, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
So here we are, beautiful day, Keri and I standing in our jammies on the rocks, and I belt out an awesome, if I may say so myself, dolphin call.
I'm going to be grossly arrogant right now and say that I am good at a lot of things, but I must be the BEST at dolphin calling, because seconds, I mean seconds after my call, 2 or 3 dolphins broke the surface. I kid you not. Swear on my life. I FREAKED OUT. I almost jumped into the Pacific Ocean. Keri had to grab my arm because she actually thought I was going in. Good instincts, cause I totally was.
Keri and I laughed so hard, and I have no idea why, but my first instinct, well second actually. My first instinct was to jump in and play with them. My second instinct was to run to these children whom I did not know, and drag them to the edge of the ocean to see these dolphins. Which they did. I just had this moment of pure exhilaration. I remember being a kid and seeing my first dolphins in the ocean, and thinking that I finally understood what grown ups mean when they talk about things being 'bigger than themselves'. It was amazing.
Let's ignore the fact that these kids lived in LA and probably see dolphins on an almost regular basis. I WAS EXCITED.
The kids ran off and Keri and I just watched this little dolphin pod, playing in the morning sunlight. We were holding hands, and I was leaning on her arm, laughing. And she looked so happy. And it was perfect.
We ended up seeing much more sea life than just dolphins on that trip, but no one can ever argue with me that I speak dolphin. If you are at all rooted in scientific fact, you will have no choice but to admit that I must be part dolphin. Right? I mean, if A=B, and B=C, then A=C, right?
Totally irrelevant.
I thought briefly of changing my name to Candolphin after this trip, but decided to stick with what my parents gave me. It might hurt their feelings if I chose to embrace my other species half that strongly.
I'm sorry, what's that you ask?
Oh right, gay marriage. Umm...I just told you that whole story? Did you not pay attention? Or were you expecting something different?
My story is no different than yours, no matter what your other half looks like. The important part is that I had my soul mate next to me in the most pivotal moment of my life - the day I discovered I speak dolphin.
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*PCH runs along the coast of California. The majority of the trip, you can see the ocean, and it will change your life. Googlemaps it, then plan your trip. You can thank me later.
**The campsite where this epic story occurred, is only about 25 minutes from my apartment here in California, and that makes me so pumped.
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