There is a first time for everything...
A saying that perfectly sums up my past weekend. Friday morning, bright and early, I dragged my sleepy bones from the comfort of my bed and headed for Newark Airport. My destination? For the last thirty years, when speaking about the United States I have always been able to say, almost braggingly, that I have never been farther west than Missouri. To me, the North West, Mid-West, South West and West Coast have remained a fictional mosaic, depicted haphazardly through pop songs, movies, books, and TV shows. My reference point for the state of Wisconsin, sadly enough, is That Seventies Show, for San Francisco, Hitcock’s Vertigo, and LA, TV shows 90210, or more recently Girlfriends (pretty sad I know.)
The plane ride was long, the food barely consumable, and the legroom…well lets just say, once I dropped my pen on the floor it may as well have fallen into a black whole cause there was no chance of me reaching down to retrieve it. When we landed in LAX and I stepped foot off the plane, my heart fluttered wildly, this NYC born peasant had finally made the vital pilgrimage to her West Coast Sister City and State, Los Angeles California.
Within hours of my arrival my good friend Kadie was shuffling me and a whole posy of family and friends to my first ever Baseball Game.
That night, while celebrating Kadie’s thirtieth birthday, we ran out of booze and I bought my first ever bottle of Champagne at a Mobil gas station. Can’t do that in NY now can you?
The next day was punctuated by a whole assortment of first. I went to Venice beach for the first time; I went to the Getty for the first time.
What can I say? After visiting the garden, and taking in breath-taking views of the City we were tired and thirsty, so instead of seeing the art, we opted for corona and salt and vinegar chips in the shaded beer garden.
That afternoon I had Pinkberry for the first time. Yes, I know we have Pinkberry on the East Coast but the army of Tasty Delights that clutter every other street corner pretty much eclipse the presence of the one or two NYC Pinkberries.
That evening we ended with yet another first, Korean Barbeque. This dining experience was so unlike any other I have ever had, that I will have to elaborate on it in appropriate detail in future posts.
I still have two days left of my vacation, and I can imagine countless other firsts to encounter. Once I return I will have my first opportunity to say that I have in fact traveled to the West Coast, and that it has awakened in me, for the first time, an almost compulsive desire to conquer an endless number of firsts. Perhaps I will try eating mountain rat in China, cricket tacos in Mexico, cow intestines in Korea, or maybe I will finally try that African restaurant around the corner from my apartment. The world houses infinite possibilities for first time experiences and it’s about time I began I pursuing them all with an undying passion.