Monday, May 17, 2004
Bravado
See, I like to think I'm all heart. When the chips are down, I pick 'em up and huck 'em into the ocean. When a solution's needed, I don't just push the envelope, I shred it to pieces, chew it up, and digest the shit out of it. But every once in a while, I forget myself. The pants-splitting incident at Scripps college comes to mind (for those who don't know, just trust that it was amazing/ly dumb).
Yesterday, Marah and I drove up to Malibu. The perfect beach day. Sunny and clear. We parked in a little dirt lot just north of El Matador, and descended a trail down a cliff to the beach. After a few hours, we felt a little crispy and had to pee. So, tearing picnic bag in tow, we made our way over the rocks back towards where we came. Except instead of the one trail we walked down, there were now ten. A few were identified with signs like "no trespassing" and "private property", but most lead up to individual houses.
So we walked back across the main stretch of sand. And then back again. Then, with a bag of food we wanted to save, about to split, pee about to spill, and the embarrassment of confused looks from everyone around us... a god send. There was a narrow, paved service road.
"Perfect", I thought. "This will undoubtedly dump us smack on the highway and we can just walk to the car. What could possibly go wrong? Why yes, it is a very steep incline. Oh, there's a house and another house. This must be some sort of community driveway, but clearly it will take us to the PCH without incident...".
We climbed this motherfucker, panting and sweating. And when we finally made it to the top... gates. Tall, steel "Giants, Keep Out" gates. And leading to the gates on either side was a chain link fence. The kind with pointy steel curly cues on top. We caught our breath, contemplated what to do. Walking all the way back down just wasn't an option. We swallowed our pride and rang the doorbell to the nearest house. A dog barked, but nobody came.
Nevermind we were barefoot and in shorts, "We're going over that fence!"
I scaled the bitch quite stealthily, if I do say so myself. It wasn't comfortable, but I was full of piss and determination. Just as Marah put her toe in the fence, a woman appeared behind her. We apologized profusely. She just shook her head and, as if lamenting the state of mankind, said, "No one should have to climb a fence".
A button was pushed. The gate slid open and Marah walked out. This I vaguely remember because I was too fascinated/frightened by my cut up, bloodied hand. Luckily, this fear dissipated and was quickly replaced by the fear of Tetanus. When's the last time I had a Tetanus shot? How rusty was that fence? My thumb hurts, does that mean I'm dying? Etc.
We found the car, and after some medical advice from my brother and some kind of nurse hotline, we stopped at Sav On. On a bench outside, Marah swabbed the cuts with peroxide while I ate an ice cream sandwich. So manly.
See, I like to think I'm all heart. When the chips are down, I pick 'em up and huck 'em into the ocean. When a solution's needed, I don't just push the envelope, I shred it to pieces, chew it up, and digest the shit out of it. But every once in a while, I forget myself. The pants-splitting incident at Scripps college comes to mind (for those who don't know, just trust that it was amazing/ly dumb).
Yesterday, Marah and I drove up to Malibu. The perfect beach day. Sunny and clear. We parked in a little dirt lot just north of El Matador, and descended a trail down a cliff to the beach. After a few hours, we felt a little crispy and had to pee. So, tearing picnic bag in tow, we made our way over the rocks back towards where we came. Except instead of the one trail we walked down, there were now ten. A few were identified with signs like "no trespassing" and "private property", but most lead up to individual houses.
So we walked back across the main stretch of sand. And then back again. Then, with a bag of food we wanted to save, about to split, pee about to spill, and the embarrassment of confused looks from everyone around us... a god send. There was a narrow, paved service road.
"Perfect", I thought. "This will undoubtedly dump us smack on the highway and we can just walk to the car. What could possibly go wrong? Why yes, it is a very steep incline. Oh, there's a house and another house. This must be some sort of community driveway, but clearly it will take us to the PCH without incident...".
We climbed this motherfucker, panting and sweating. And when we finally made it to the top... gates. Tall, steel "Giants, Keep Out" gates. And leading to the gates on either side was a chain link fence. The kind with pointy steel curly cues on top. We caught our breath, contemplated what to do. Walking all the way back down just wasn't an option. We swallowed our pride and rang the doorbell to the nearest house. A dog barked, but nobody came.
Nevermind we were barefoot and in shorts, "We're going over that fence!"
I scaled the bitch quite stealthily, if I do say so myself. It wasn't comfortable, but I was full of piss and determination. Just as Marah put her toe in the fence, a woman appeared behind her. We apologized profusely. She just shook her head and, as if lamenting the state of mankind, said, "No one should have to climb a fence".
A button was pushed. The gate slid open and Marah walked out. This I vaguely remember because I was too fascinated/frightened by my cut up, bloodied hand. Luckily, this fear dissipated and was quickly replaced by the fear of Tetanus. When's the last time I had a Tetanus shot? How rusty was that fence? My thumb hurts, does that mean I'm dying? Etc.
We found the car, and after some medical advice from my brother and some kind of nurse hotline, we stopped at Sav On. On a bench outside, Marah swabbed the cuts with peroxide while I ate an ice cream sandwich. So manly.
