elfs | Friday, In Anaheim!

Sand Sculpture

I slept okay for the strange hotel arrangement. I usually don't have much trouble sleeping in a strange bed. I woke, showered, shaved and joined my three giggling troops. We went to Starbucks; it was the closest place, and we were revolted to find they didn't have hot food.

Grief, it's expensive to live in LA. A latte costs $4.60.

Our expedition of the morning was to Huntington Beach. The weather was 63F and cloudy. Omaha informed me over IM that it was 70 and sunny in Seattle. The bus ride was as long as last night's, but made better because this time I had remembered a book, The Stepsister Scheme. We passed by an enormous oil-fired generator plant, another reminder of the infrastructure that keeps people alive here. There was also a gigantic church, and a rotting leftover of the once unstoppable Thomas Kincade empire.

We wandered up the beach, watching the National Scholastic Surfing Competition going on there. It wasn't very exciting, mostly because we had arrived between rounds. The boys rented a cheap volleyball from a beach house and played against the girls. Then they ganged up and buried one of the boys in the sand. This was definitely a case where I should not interfere.

Stormy by Sand Sculpture

We passed by a gorgeous sand sculpture that was highly romantic; someone had used the sculpture to propose to his girlfriend; the hand-lettered response was "She said yes!" on the lee side. There was also some awesome work of whales, and a reproduction of the Huntington Beach pier.

The girls gawked at a beautiful young boy surfing in the waves as we wandered up the pier, then we went inland for lunch. This place is your classic tourist trap. Stormy joined us, as did her friend and a boy. Lunchtime arrived, so we stopped at a place called Bomburgers where Soviet-style kitsch poster art suggested "Burgers for everyone!" The special was $5, well within our budgets, so it was a deal. The burger was meh, the fries awesome in that "deep fried in something tragically bad for you" way.

While we were there, Stormy gave me a hug. "Oh my god, you're wearing that aftershave." She turned to her friends. "You have to smell my dad. He smells sooo good."

"I am not smelling your dad. I'm good. Really."

Eventually, it was time to return to the hotel and get ready for the entire point of this adventure: the competition. On the way back, we passed by a store that advertised the sold "12 Step Materials." I'm like, really? That's your selling point?