Stranded...

But there are definitely worse places to be.

This past Thursday was Alan Schuler and I's annual 24-annual roadtrip to Six Flags Magic Mountain. Accompanying us were Andrew Nunemacher, and an eleventh-hour addition to our party, the dynamic duo that is Lauren Resnick and Kate. At midnight Thursday morning, we rounded up the troops and began our adventure.

Our motley crew braved Nunemacher's bowels, fatigue, and the morning rush hour in Los Angeles to finally arrive at the theme park. Some of those new coasters are pretty intense.

After the park, we hit the beach. The day was overcast, but Alan, Nunemacher, and I were not about to pass up a chance for hypothermia. It was awesome. The ocean kicked my ass. I have a huge abrasion on my right hip from being picked up by a wave and being slammed into the sand. And I am still finding grains of sand. The girls sat on the beach talking about whatever it is that girls talk about while all the cool guys are swimming/getting tossed about like rag dolls by Mother Nature.

After the beach, we contacted Brian Goldstein who was about to get off of work and made plans to meet up with at wherever we decided to eat dinner. We were in a residential area right on the border of Santa Monica and Los Angeles looking for the next street to turn down when the car (a 98 Mercury Tracer) shuddered and then just died. Radio was still blaring, the lights were still on, but the damn engine wasn't combusting. I coast into a turn lane and frantically try to start the car. No dice. Cars are lining up behind me to turn and are honking furiously. I throw on my hazard lights to buy myself some time. My options are limited at this point; all I can do is keep turning the key and maybe honk back and flip people off. The latter is seeming very tempting. I give up on the car and take matters into Alan and Nunemacher's hands. They wait for a break in traffic and then leap out of the car and get behind it. Lauren and Kate stay in the car. Lauren is a bit nervous. Hell, we all are. At the next break in traffic Nunemacher and Alan scramble to push the car into a sidestreet while I struggle to steer the car sans the power steering. We all make it.

After checking every fluid, line, fuse, hose, and belt, I concluded that whatever was wrong was well beyond my rudimentary skills. Brian was nearby, and pulls up. I can only imagine what it must be like to come across five of your friends from out-of-state in the middle of the road. Brian calls Triple AAA, and we tow our car to a local garage. The place doesn't open until the next morning, so we all cram into Goldstein's truck and head off. We spend the next few hours at Shaky's pizza drinking and playing video games to win tickets. Childish, you say? No, we needed the tickets to get prizes that we would then incorporate into our drinking, like trying to get this rubber bouncy popper thing to jump into the pitcher of beer to see who would have to finish it. Kate won that one. The place closed and kicked us out, so we left with our prizes and hit up some local Food-O-Mart to pick up some supplies. Underwear and toothbrushes for the girls, beer and mixers for the guys. Finally we went back to Brian's studio apartment. It's pretty nice, actually, so if he bitches about it ever tell him to shut up.

One by one we passed out onto the floor, mostly from exhaustion. At almost 1:00 am, after almost 36 hours of being awake, I succumbed to weariness and slept.

The next morning, Brian ditched work to hang with us. We all hung out this morning, eating left-over pizza and drinking left-over beer. Actually, that was just me that was drinking. They were all surprised but anyone who has been to Cali with me before knows that I can't start my day without my morning 40.

I hope Brian doesn't get fired.

* * *

I spoke to the mechanic a short while ago and he told me that my timing belt had decided that it was time to go. It was good news, really. The timing belt breaking is almost unavoidable without specific preventative maintainence. If I had run out of gas or something, then I would have just looked like a jackass.

The car should be ready by 3:00 this afternoon. Just in time to hit every rush-hour from here to Phoenix.

See you back in the 480. Unless I run out of gas or something.

Sweet, we're all heading down to the pool and drinking!

Indeed, there are much worse places to be stranded.