2/21/2011

Dispatch from LAX: An epilogue to a wasted trip

Disembarked from the plane, feeling good and healthy, like dollar $igns in my first name because I didn't even need to take a shot of Airborne or Emergen-C to feel this way (foreshadowing). My ride is there within 45 min, hop in the passenger seat, get on the 5, just admiring the sky and totally surrendering to it. Excited for this trip.

Turns out my friend has a new cat thing AND I WANT TO DIE. I'm allergic to cats and within 15 minutes my face and neck breaks out into blotches and hives, raging out. Run to CVS, buy some medicine, the pharmacist literally laughs in my Mars Attacks face!, Benadryl a deep hole into my head and an hour later, out like a light. Woo, California, Day 1. :///

It's okay, because the next morning I go to Disneyland, except for the part where I actually go to Disneyland. Instead it rains. Like, rains-storms!-rains. Go to our friend's new apt instead and watch Price Is Right, where another friend of ours won a trip to Scotland, a trip to New York, Marc Jacobs handbags, and a new sailboat earlier that day. Think to myself, "Um, weird," and shove a fistful of butter popcorn in my gob. Finish the bowl and decide we need Kettle Korn now and pop some. Who's livin' the life now?


Hang out in Beverly Hills for about an hour (less than) because we get bored. Starting to feel sick because of the rain and inability to afford anything. Take a Tylenol, meet our other friend at her apartment in North Hollywood, and make a super vapid playlist with Top 40 and over play over-played Rihanna songs.

Drive out to West Hollywood and feel paranoid about where to park. I didn't agree to understand LA traffic laws, so we park in some yellow space and cross our fingers. Eat a grass-fed burger at this little cafe, start feeling like crap again, decide to suck it up and go out anyway. Get to this cantina twelve minutes before the "2 for 1" happy hour, so we stand around and wait for exactly thirteen minutes. Each take two shots of Patron like cough syrup, and scoot over the club next door. Take another shot of tequila to keep killing off the germs, along with this Lady Gaga impersonator girl (???) who pulls me onto the dance floor, feeling buzzed and lost in a good way, until it wears off, my body realizes it's like 50 degrees and I pass out back at my friend's place, wake up in an Inception terror of sweats and swear never to drink again.

Drinking games at my friend's place in Orange County. I eat mashed potatoes from Ralph's and watch the first third of Joan Rivers: Piece of Work instead. Wish I wasn't sick because I really wanted to go to Disneyland, the Happiest Place on Earth except I'm already riding roller coasters at the Sickest Place on My Liver, but what're you gonna do? Write about it at the airport poorly, hoping I get on this flight, stand-by, while trying not to vomit. Fingers, temples, kidneys, everything crossed.

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