My Long Lost Brother

So, I'm resting in LA for a week, staying at the chateau (always feels like home-mostly because my full size fridge here is stocked with nothing but alcohol and red bull...just like home) and sleeping until 3 everyday, trying to gear up for the next six weeks on the road. I love to spend my evenings here just sitting out on the patio people watching while I work my way through a bottle of wine, which is exactly what I was doing when I met my long lost brother the other night.

I was on my fourth glass of wine when two of the four guys at the table next to me started chatting with me and shortly thereafter asked me what my plans were for my week in LA. Now, whenever guys start chatting me up, I always immediately put something out there about being gay so I'm not wasting anybody's time. So, I replied jokingly that I had a tentative line item on my LA agenda to hook up with Lindsay Lohan if the opportunity presented itself, but other than that my agenda was pretty open. They both burst out laughing and exchanged a knowing glance, whereupon one of the guys asked me if I knew who he was. I told him I didn't, but based on the fact that the four guys were all wearing matching ensembles, my money was on them being some boy band. Turns out the boy band imposters were Tyler Shields (the guy who took the picture of Lindsay with the gun in her mouth) and his posse. Tyler is very smart and intense and immediately started drilling me about whether I really want to hook up with Lindsay, if she's my type, etc. Now, my "type" can be a long and complicated topic (though the short version is that I do tend to date ridiculously beautiful closet cases who I want to save in some way), so I invited them to join me at my table. After we talked about girls for a while (most of which I promised Tyler I wouldn't blog about), I told them about my trip and the conversation quickly turned to Tyler and I one upping each other in the bad behavior department.

After going back and forth for a few rounds, Tyler finally upped the ante with "have you ever been in a police chase?" Resigning myself to the fact that I was going to lose this bad behavior battle, I settled back into my chair for the following story (though I have to leave out some of the details to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent). Tyler (who used to do a fair amount of racing when he was younger-from motorcross to F1) was hanging out one night with 2 of the top 3 executives at a big household name public company a while back when he was too young to even have a license. One of the execs was so drunk and coked up that night that he told Tyler (who doesn't drink or do drugs) that Tyler was going to have to drive his Dodge Viper because he couldn't. The other exec had a low end ferrari and a lot to prove. So, they left where they were partying and a little road racing ensued, with Tyler (a young kid in an American car) running circles around the guy in the ferrari, making said ferrari guy very angry. Finally they pull up at a light and ferrari guy, enraged by the humiliation, starts insisting (shouting, screaming, etc.) that they drag race out of the light (this was the first indication of what an idiot ferrari guy was because his car didn't stand a chance against the viper, but I digress).

Knowing the viper will easily crush the ferrari, Tyler agrees and puts it in second to start, so when he pops into third, it'll be game over. They take off and rocket through the next intersection doing around 130 and all of the sudden (he tells this story just like I tell my Marfa story-siren sound effect accompanied by swiveling index finger) one cop is tearing down the road after them and then a second cop joins the chase. At this point, ferrari guy pulls up next to Tyler and starts waving frantically that they should turn onto a side street to get away from the cops. Tyler, knowing he can outrun them easily, refuses and just stomps on it. This is when dumb as a box of rocks ferrari guy decides to try to make a 90 degree turn at 130+. The next thing Tyler sees is the front end of the ferrari flying past his passenger side window prompting him to look in his rearview mirror just in time for a quick glimpse of one of the cop cars t-boning the ferrari. At this point I had to interrupt and ask if it occurred to him to just pull over and talk his way out of it (I mean, if I wasn't so charming, my Marfa story could have been a police chase story too-I just decided to cut my losses once I got in the multiple felony zone instead of piling more felonies on top, but I guess this is one of those things about which reasonable minds can differ). Tyler just shook his head and explained that between the totaled police cruiser and all the coke that the passed out guy next to him had on him, pulling over was not an option.

Now, back when the viper first came out it was the fastest street legal car out there, capable of 250, which Tyler knew. What he didn't know was that there was a governor at 180 which made his plan to outrun the cop much more challenging because he couldn't just leave him in the dust, though he was putting distance between himself and the cop who was doing about 120. When he hit 180 on this highway out in the desert with the next exit about 30 miles away and the car wouldn't go any faster, he realized his initial plan wasn't going to work because they would have time to have cops down the road waiting for him before he could exit. So, he turned off all the lights and, having put some serious distance between himself and the cop, turned on the next dirt road he saw that took him out into the middle of the desert. Needless to say, there was a whole lot of bottoming out going on and pieces of the viper were flying off left and right as he raced down this dirt road as fast as he could. Eventually, he got far enough out into the desert that he thought the cop wouldn't be able to see him and he turned off everything and just sat there in the dark trying to figure out his next move. After over an hour had gone by without the cops or a helicopter making an appearance, he realized he was probably in the clear...except that he somehow had to explain what had happened to the owner of the pretty much destroyed viper, who was still completely passed out next to him.  Or not...

Brilliant (slightly evil) Tyler picked the guy up, moved him into the driver's seat, woke him up and started berating him for almost killing poor little Tyler with his police chase shenanigans. By the time he was done, this guy was totally wracked with guilt and apologizing over and over for endangering Tyler's life. Of course, the truth came out later when this guy bailed his fellow exec out of jail, but by then Tyler was long gone...

Love that story and Mr. Tyler Shields. By the time we were done talking, I was pretty much convinced that we had been separated at birth and reunited not a minute too soon, because I never heard from Leisha (I've heard since that she has a gfriend and the woman she was having dinner with did stalk off as we were chatting, so I'm thinking that might have something to do with me not hearing from her ;-)) and still need someone in LA who will bail me out as necessary. It occurred to me that maybe Tyler isn't the best person to have on call to bail me out since the odds are very good that if I end up in jail, he'll be there with me, but then I remembered his boy band and I'm sure one of them will come get us, so I'm feeling like I have a pretty good bail out system in place.

Latest development on the what I'm going to do with the rest of my life front: Jamaica did get me pretty excited about the idea of being "a commander," but last night Tyler texted me around 11 about still being stuck at work...bullwhipping a supermodel...and I'm thinking the bullwhipping supermodels gig might be an even better fit for me. Now, I'm pretty sure that Tyler thinks he has the bullwhipping supermodels market locked down at the moment, but let's just say that I think the market might shift very quickly when these girls learn about all the body shaping and hair styling techniques (see below) that I can share with them if they start playing for my team. Just sayin'...

The Mojave and Death Valley

As promised, as soon as Jamaica came home Monday, we set off for the Mojave National Preserve, but decided to pass it and head to Needles for the night and then come back to it in the morning (a) because Jamaica was bent on seeing the Colorado, her “absolute favorite river” because, if you ask her, the Mississippi “is just tawdry, so dirty, so tawdry”; (b) Jamaica thought it was important that I see the Eastern-most town in CA because it’s the closest thing CA has to the wild west; and (c) Jamaica has an inexplicable fondness for Best Westerns to the point that I don’t think she would stay anywhere else if there was a Best Western within 50 miles (and there is a Best Western in Needles-so that settled that).

In the morning we made a quick pilgrimage to the Colorado (which was crystal clear and lovely, not tawdry at all), then worked our way across the Mojave Preserve (south to north), continued north from Baker to the east entrance of Death Valley Nat'l Park, then travelled west through the park and finally, home. It was a solid 13 hours of driving 85-120 (broke 120 3 times after explicitly asking Jamaica if she wanted to have some fun and getting an affirmative response). Our entire 13 hour journey, Jamaica (who first cemented her notoriety in the literary world long ago with her gardening column in the New Yorker) was calling out every flower we flew past (and screaming at me to stop for the very rare ones). We literally only saw two flowers all day that she didn’t know the name of. Mindblowing.

Non-wildflower oriented highlights include Jamaica figuring out what I should do with the rest of my life: "be a commander.” She was very adamant that this is my calling, as I am “so brilliant, so fearless and so utterly intolerant of any sort of incompetence.” This revelation came to her somewhere after the third time I pulled over and took the map away from her so I could figure out where we were going. Her conviction was reaffirmed at dinner when I confronted a table of blind drunk, unbelievably obnoxious guys who were making it impossible for anyone else in the room to hold a conversation. After exchanging multiple eye rolls and head shakes with our fellow diners, I finally went over to these guys to ask them to keep it down, whereupon the ringleader in his black shirt, black suit and gold chains stood up and shouted at me “hey baby, why donchu chill out and have a drink and get on our level." My response was something like, “um, I’ve actually already had two bottles of sake and I still think you are the most obnoxious people I have ever had to be in the same room as in my lifetime…jackass.” 

After I had them moved to another room and returned to my table, getting little thank you nods and smiles from our fellow diners, Jamaica’s immediate response was, “that’s why you should be leading our troops! That was wonderful. Oh, our fearless leader.” After a moment of thought she continued, “I’m just so glad nobody got shot. I really thought they might pull some guns out, especially that ice, ice baby one. Do you think he’s that ice, ice baby? It could be, looks just like him.” “No,” I said, “I will grant you that they might share a wardrobe and a lot of fashion tips, but I don’t think that’s actually vanilla ice.” Nodding her head in thought as she picked her chopsticks back up, she concluded, “well that was wonderful, really well done and I’m so glad nobody got shot. I’m telling you, you’ve really missed your calling. All your men would be so happy to follow you into battle...and they probably wouldn't even get shot!”  She was adamant enough that she got me thinking about whether I really had missed my calling, but then I remembered that I am gay and that my girl ban will expire in a year and a half and I would have to start all over again as a boring lawyer then, so I decided it was probably best not to run off and join the military just yet.

Also included in the non-wildflower oriented highlights has to be doing 100 down the highway with Jamaica dancing in her seat next to me, both fingers snapping in the air, singing every word of  “Rock Steady” by the Whispers.  That is one that I will never forget.

Finally, I promised Jamaica I would tell my readers how I've stayed "in such great shape" over the last six weeks of eating junk all day and all night and almost never exercising, so...I eat beef jerky all day and do 100 push ups when I get to my hotel every night.  She seemed to think that my beef jerky and push up diet could really help some people achieve the body they have always dreamed of. Now combine that with the secret recipe for my fabulous windblown hairstyle that I shared in my "Ready to Launch" post and you might just wake up gorgeous one of these day.

Jamaica was very excited to find this rare Desert Milkweed between Essex and I-40

Mojave: Jimson Weed/Sacred Datura with the Kelso Dunes (or as Jamaica calls them, the "Nothing Dunes" because they are nothing compared to the Imperial Sand Dunes) in the background.

Mojave: Indigo Bush, Joshua Trees and the Amboy lava fields in the background.

Death Valley: This hungry little coyote prompted quite the window war between Jamaica and I-I kept trying to put hers down for a better picture, while she kept trying to put it up because she didn't "want to die with that thing attached to [her] neck." He was so cute and hungry...I wanted to just hug him and give him whatever the equivalent is of a 16 ounce ribeye in the coyote world...but Jamaica said no.

  

Death Valley: Artist's Drive

Death Valley: Artist's Palette (and Jamaica)

Death Valley: Badlands around Zabriskie Point

Death Valley: Wildflowers, from front to back--Mojave Sun Cup, Apricot Globemallow, Indigo Bush and Prince's Plume (top left corner-long stems with yellow flowers). 

The Salton Sea, Imperial Sand Dunes and Chocolate Mountains

I'm just sharing a quick recap of the last two days as I sit here in Jamaica Kincaid's kitchen in Claremont because when she walks through the door again, we are off to the Mojave (and maybe Death Valley) for a couple more days of sightseeing before I hit LA.

I had one sunny day of surfing and running on the beach in San Diego on Friday, but when I woke up on Saturday to some not so sunny weather, I decided, after walking the length of the boardwalk and grabbing lunch at Tower 23, to make my way up the coast to Claremont (via S-21 to 101 to 1, then turning inland at Huntington Beach).  I have to say that the drive was not as beautiful as I thought it would be because you really don't get to see the ocean very often...and the traffic was pretty bad (I also might be a little jaded at this point in my trip).  I'm hoping the coastal drive from LA to San Francisco is more impressive...dare to dream.

As for yesterday, after an unsuccessful attempt to rouse me at 7am followed by another unsuccessful attempt at 9, Jamaica finally managed to get me out of bed around 11:30 and after chugging a couple cups of coffee we were off to Palm Springs for a quick lunch.  Jamaica, who had never been to Palm Springs before, loved it, mostly because she was fascinated by the existence of this bizarrely artificial town (complete with transplanted trees and plants that would never grow in the desert) dropped in the middle of the desert.  She kept saying "this whole town is a movie set, it's just bizarre, I love it." Suffice to say by the time I shared a few stories about the last time I was in Palm Springs (for Dinah Shore, a long weekend of lesbian parties-pool parties all day and clubs all night), from the crazy girls to the crazy drama, this lover of all things bizarre was counting down to next year's Dinah Shore. About every hour for the rest of the day she would exclaim, "I just can't wait for this Dinah Shore." Mind you, she's not gay, just fascinated by bizarre things and people. So, I finally had to break it to her that she could only join me for one night of gawking at crazy drunk lesbians at the next Dinah and then she would have to go, since it's kind of a given that she's going to mess up my game.  She digested this quietly and made no promises...

After lunch we headed to the Salton Sea (a brief history: a long, long time ago the Pacific used to reach all the way to the Colorado, but over time the pacific receded and in the early 1800s the course of the Colorado changed so that it flowed toward the gulf and the area where the Salton Sea is now dried up until there was a huge flood in 1905 that over the course of 16 days filled the Salton Sea again, and now it gets saltier by the day as water evaporates and no new water comes in except for a little run off from the irrigated farmland in the area and the occasional little rain shower in the desert). After the Salton Sea, we set off to find the Imperial Sand Dunes (just north of the border with Mexico) admiring the scrumptious Chocolate Mountains all the way. The dunes were definitely the most awe-inspiring sight of the day, but the Chocolate Mountains were a close second mostly because their beauty was a total surprise-you never hear about them and they are just incredible to look at, so different than any other mountains we had ever seen. Somewhere around 9pm we circled back to Palm Springs via I-10 for dinner and a couple Margaritas before heading home.

It's been a while since my last drag racing story, so I will tell you that we had some fun on I-10 with a very obnoxious guy in a corvette who kept trying to get us to race him. I was tempted, but since Jamaica is basically a national treasure, I was reluctant to break 115 with her in my car, so we just slowly drove this guy crazy by being unshakeable while barely engaging. He kept slowing down to be right next to us and then kicking it up to around 130 trying to leave us in the dust, but within a couple seconds we would be right behind him letting him go ahead of us in the passing lane (because he kept trying to pass on the right and would inevitably get stuck and want to come back).  In the final maneuver, after about 40 minutes of dealing with this guy, we passed him and parted ways before he had the chance to pass us again which I'm sure drove him out of his little mind. This was the closest thing Jamaica had ever experienced to drag racing and her instructions alternated every 10 seconds between "oh, let's just let him go" and "maybe just a bit more, this is so fun." When it was all over, she was definitely feeling the adrenaline and kept exclaiming how much fun it was and how great it was that we won in the end and then observed, because she's Jamaica, "I think what was really wonderful about that is just the amount of people you entertained on this highway. I mean it's just wonderful really.  People get so bored when they drive and that must have been so entertaining to watch that I'm sure people really appreciated it."  Yes, I'm sure they did...mostly because they lived to tell the tale.

Date and grapefruit trees in Indio in the Coachella Valley. When Jamaica informed me that Indio is the "date capital of the world," I asked, "because of all the romantic restaurants or..." straining to spot any restaurant in the irrigated desert around us.  To which she replied, "no, darling, dates, the things that grow on trees." ah, then it all made perfect sense as we were surrounded on all sides by these trees.

The Salton Sea. I will spare you the close-up of the shores covered in dead Tilapia.

The Imperial Sand Dunes

This is where I'm telling Jamaica that she is going to have to push my car to help me get unstuck after she explicitly warned me that if I drove this far out I was going to get stuck.  Kids...

Driving through a little smudge of the Chocolate Mountains 

A morsel of the Chocolate Mountains