Since I’m running out of posts about California and I’m getting close to the Scotland theme, I thought about writing a sort of homage. My history with California goes way back. My dad has been living there for more than 15 years, my mom just moved there and I’ve been visiting the place every year since I can remember, so I am very fond of it. However, of all the places I’ve visited, the West Coast have offered me some the most peculiar encounters with its inhabitants. The people there are extremely kind, friendly and, yeah, sometimes even a bit odd. But since odd is always good, this is a little recollection of the weirdest things that have ever happened to me in California.
Disclaimer: Unlike some fictional pieces in the blog, this post is entirely real. All of this actually happened (Fortunately or unfortunately. You can decide).
1. That time when my mom got seduced by Dr. Brown
I have always been a big fan of Back to the Future, so when I had the chance to “meet” Dr. Emmett Brown and his DeLorean at Universal Studios Hollywood I was super excited. Turned out my mother was too. Different reasons, though.
I must have been around nine years old when they took me to the theme park and my mom accompanied me to say hello to the characters around the fountain. I got signatures from Bettlejuice, Scooby Doo and SpongeBob SquarePants, but when we reached the Doc, it took us a considerably large amount of time. During that time I wasn’t particularly fluent in English, so I couldn’t really follow the conversation my mom was having with the mad scientist. After they finally said good-bye between silly giggles and a hand kiss, mom told me he offered to give us a ride to the past in his time machine, but since I had school soon, she couldn’t risk me to be late (which is ironic, considering the circumstances).
A few years later, mom finally confessed that the guy had offered to “show her the park” in a no-kids-allowed way, but since it was only the two of us, she declined the offer. Not before flirting with him for half an hour, of course.
2. The time I met a psychic at the mall
This is the most recent one. Happened last month I was visiting my dad. My trips to California have always made the perfect excuse for endless shopping days (not that I need one). I’ve been to dozens of shopping malls in the States, but only once I encountered a palm reader that claimed to see my future. I’m not really a believer in this kind of things, besides I’m way too familiar with the give-me-money-and-I’ll-tell-you-what-you-want-to-hear routine that most esoteric people play.
However, this time I was having a lazy shopping day in a mall in the Bay Area when this woman approached me out of nowhere and asked me: “Do you believe in your future?”. I was so shocked at first that I could only answer with an impolite “What?”. She repeated the question and when I didn’t answer (how the hell do you answer to that?), the woman told me it didn’t matter, because she could see mine and it was brilliant. Bumpy, but brilliant.
If I’m honest here, the first thing I did after she left was checking the whereabouts of my wallet. When I made sure that it was safe and exhausted all the “WTF’s” I had in my vocabulary, I went to buy the expensive dress. If my future was that brilliant, then the future me wouldn’t mind a little splurge.
3. That time with a bunch of Australian surfers and an airport bench
Yup. It was as good as it sounds. Well, almost. My mother and I were returning to Mexico from the Harry Potter themed park opening in Orlando. However, because we alter the order of the universe when we travel together, we missed our connecting flight in Los Angeles and had to stay for the night with no money and, surprise, surprise, no luggage.
Since we had spent most of what we had in magic wands and Ravenclaw scarves back in Florida, we had practically no money to afford a hotel. Also, we were wearing short shorts and t-shirts, because Orlando, duh and had nothing to cover ourselves from the cold Californian winds.
“Think about something” mom told me, in desperation, “Find a place to stay. I don’t want to spend the night in an airport bench”.
I nodded in a semi-comatose state (it was around 2:00 am) while she prepared to argue with the incredibly inefficient people from Delta Airlines (She’s a travel agent. She knows how to fight airlines). It was in that moment when they entered the room.
There were about half-dozen, 6’2 tall, tanned and Thor-like looking group. Some of them were wearing neoprene shirts, which, for reasons still unknown to me, made them look incredible cooler than the rest of us mortals. I think they might have actually entered the room in slow motion and with background music. But then again, I was half a vegetable back then.
However, any sign of sleep completely vanished when one of the guys from the group decided to take a seat next to me and, for some reason, engage in a conversation with yours truly. I am the absolute worst when it comes to small talk. Funny thing for someone who makes a living out of words. Still, he seemed to be OK with it and charmed me into a different kind of comatose state.
Apparently he and his pals were Australian. They were on a surfing trip in the West Coast of California, they had just arrived but the airline had lost their surfing boards (damn you Delta) somewhere in the connection flight.
“So where are you staying?” he asked after he finished his story. “Maybe we could do something tomorrow before your flight. Since I’m definitely not surfing”.
“I’d love to if I knew where I’m staying” I answered. “The airline doesn’t seem too keen on providing accommodation for the night”. I added after watching my mom fail spectacularly at the main counter and head back to where I was seating. The bench might be comfier than it looked, after all.
“Well if you can’t find a place to stay…” he started “We are staying right outside the airport. I’m sure we can sort something out”. Insert coy smile here.
“Well…”
“We will be at the hotel bar if you make up your mind” the interruption wasn’t even rude with that accent. “Hope to see you there”.
He said goodbye with another knee-bending smile and left with the rest of the group. I turned around just to find my mother right behind me with a suspicious look in her eyes.
“Mom, what if…” I started.
“No” she said
“But…”
“No”
“But, you told me to find somewhe…”
“No.”
“Ok…” I finally said leaning back in the bench with nothing but a Delta t-shirt as a pillow
4. The day a super-model liked my boots.
Same Los Angeles detour. Next day. Still no luggage.
After a luxurious night at the airport bench and a McDonalds breakfast, there we were again. Mom and I vs Delta Airlines round 2. The personnel still had no idea of where our luggage was, they didn’t know if it would arrive to Mexico at some point or was still stuck in Atlanta (our previous destination). Also, they couldn’t guarantee it would be safe. You know, they were pretty much violating every rule in the customer service book. Again I found myself waiting for my mom’s argument with the supervisor when an astonishingly woman came in the place. She was absolutely gorgeous and was wearing a magazine-worthy outfit. This didn’t shock me that much because, after all, it was LA. The place was full of fashionable people and my two-days old shorts had stopped making me self-unconscious at some point after midnight.
The woman took a seat next to me and pulled out her mobile phone, while a man who was accompanying her headed to the counter. Lost luggage, apparently. What a surprise.
“I hate this airline” she said after a while. The man didn’t seem to be having better luck than us with the personnel.
“Tell me about it” I answered, feeling instant empathy with anyone who hated Delta as much as I was hating them at the moment.
“It is the absolute worst” She continued putting her mobile away and standing up. “I’ll never fly with them again. Anyways, I really like your booties”.
“Thanks” I answered while she joined the man and exited the place with a goodbye nod.
“Oh my god” a girl around my age approached me, squeaking like a chipmunk. “Was that ______ (insert supermodel name I can’t remember to save my life)???”
“I don’t know” I answered, dubiously. “Who is that?”
“She’s a supermodel!” the girl answered, annoyed by my ignorance, while other people around nodded in agreement. “I heard she will be here for a show, but never expected to find her. Oh my god, I’m so jealous!”.
I looked around, but said supermodel had disappeared. Until now, I still had no idea who she was or what was her name, so I could at least google it. In any case, said boots didn’t survive Guadalajara’s rain, so if I ever encounter this woman again, I can’t use them as a bait.