But, we need to back it up to begin with the weirdness we encountered on the drive to get there.
On the way to Monterey, we stopped in Bakersfield to say hello to my parents for a bit. Then, we headed toward the 46 through Wasco in order to get to the 101. I am pretty paranoid about running out of gas in the middle of nowhere, so I made Jerry stop in Wasco (the middle of no where) to get gas before we went any deeper into the middle of no where. The town we were in had unusual numbers of Subways, four Mom and Pop food joints, all of them some sort of dairy freeze, dairy king, Foster's Freeze, etc. There was also this place:
Carol's Dari Freeze also serves PASTRAMI, judging by the huge-ass sign on the other side of this building. I'm normally fine with "creative" spellings of words for business purposes or whatever but come on. Dari? Not even Darie?
Leaving Wasco, we drove the 46 and saw this:
Being from Bakersfield, I already knew James Dean died on the 46 in 1955 (he raced in Bakersfield once or something) but wow! Cholame isn't even Dean's hometown and there are many, many "tributes" just like this along the area. Weird.
Outside of Salinas, a tribute similar to the James Dean one above jumps out of the hillside at you as you drive by. This particular memorial, though, is of a smiling old lady surrounded by orange flowers like Dean. It is also in the grid style like Dean's. There is nothing around in this particular area (except crops. Lots and lots of crops) and then BOOM, there's someone's dead grandma on the side of the road. I was so startled by the image that I shouted at Jerry, "LOOK! THERE'S SOMEONE'S NANA!" The place was so in the middle of no where that was no place to pull over so I could take a picture and no internet searches yield any pictures so maybe it was a mirage?
Then, just when you thought large, unusually placed memorials were through, we came across this:
This photo, of Mr. Farmer showing off his giant lettuce heads is only one in a series of at least twelve throughout the region. Farm workers in various poses are trickled along the farmland. Mr. Huge (Lettuce) Heads was closest to the freeway, so we pulled over to take inappropriate pictures with him.
And our hotel time. Oh man.
Jerry and I, for whatever reason, forgot to book a hotel room until 8 PM the night before we left. That's not how we usually function--I don't do spontaneous--but it just didn't happen until I was in the midst of packing. So we get each looked online and read some reviews of the place we ended up staying. People said it was quiet (yay!), close to the water with nice views (double yay!) and one guy even called it his go-to vacation place. Go-to vacation place with prostitutes might have been more accurate, but alas, everything is clearer in hindsight. The name of the hotel (Borg's) kind of creeped me out but I went against my better judgement and booked the room anyway.
When we arrived at the hotel, we were tired, sort of hungry, and a little gritty from the 8 hour drive. What is it about sitting in a car that makes me feel so grimy, anyway? As we walk into the lobby, the sun was setting just over the water and it was so quiet and peaceful. I was stoked on the being there as Jerry and I haven't been away together since last August.
Then we walked into the lobby. Straight out of the 1950s, this place hadn't been updated in decades. I think the woman working the desk was half-dead: You know, the lives-on-the premises, Hotel California you can check out anytime you like but you can never leave kind. At first I was disturbed because I couldn't even see her, I could hear her hacking but she was lurking behind a wood-paneled partition. She finally showed herself and we got our room keys. I never saw her again...
I don't know who said the rooms were quiet, but they must be hard-of-hearing. I think there may have been only one other couple under 105 staying there. How do I know this? I heard them in the room sharing a wall with our bathroom and tiny walk-in-closet. And by heard, I mean I got to know them in the Biblical sense.
Me (looking at the bathroom tile): So, babe, where do you want to eat?
Jerry (three steps away, sitting on the bed): Hey, do you hear people having sex?
Me: What? No. That's the TV. I heard it when we walked in.
Jerry (Pause): Nooooo, that's definitely sex.
Me (giving him a look): Don't be gross.
So, Jerry and I being the respectful, mature people we are....
laughed hysterically like 13 year olds and listened like little voyeurs. And sex it definitely was. Through my laughing, I clearly heard the man ask the woman where his clothes went.
And the man sleeping in the next room next to us (on the other side) had some sort of lung disorder. He snored like my grandmother, a smoker for 55 years, did--that loud, motorcycle rattle in an irregular pattern--and he tossed and turned frequently.
The best part was sunrise. People with little time left on this Earth begin shuffling bright and early, not wanting to waste a single moment on what could be their last. The puttering of geriatrics doesn't bother me, but you know who else gets up at sunrise? Sea gulls. TONS of gulls posted up right outside our window and screamed at each other for thirty minutes before I finally caved and got up, too. Thank God for free lobby coffee!
And by far, the strangest parts of the entire trip took place at the wedding.
First, another guest lit herself on fire while trying to be helpful during the toasts. The music became quite loud suddenly and in an effort to find the volume controls, her hair dipped into a candle flame. Long hair plus hairspray plus fire= woman on fire. Luckily, she extinguished herself quite quickly and all was well, minus a scorched chunk of hair.
The second event was much more hilarious and much less dangerous; I'm sorry only Jerry and I will remember it. I should preface this by saying my husband is really, really nice. I'm not ashamed to say he is the more personable of the two of us--he makes friends wherever and is incredibly tolerant of other people's idiosyncrasies. He is the one who tends to be more optimistic and while I'm not exactly a pessimist, I tend to weigh the potential for negatives as well as positives before making a decision. Because he is so dang nice and easy-going, not to mention good-looking, women tend to hit on him a lot. He denies this but he is silly. This doesn't bother me in the least; in fact, I usually find it amusing because Jerry gets so surprised when he realizes it is happening.
So this woman, somewhere around our parents age, had had probably a bit too much to drink and was sloshing her drink onto the floor. Jerry and I were talking in the corner when she walked by us. She made direct eye contact with Jerry and winked at him. Full-on, "how ya doing?" Joey from FRIENDS wink. When I burst out laughing, she suddenly realized I was right there and, being a lady, asked if I was Jerry's wife. When we said yes, we've been married three years she said, "oh good, you're such a handsome couple. So handsome. Aren't they just so handsome?" And normally I wouldn't find this terribly odd, or even consider it a come-on but this woman was speaking clearly to Jerry and only to Jerry. She leaned in closer to him and said it while looking right into his eyes. So, we made small talk with her for awhile until she tottered off somewhere. I still don't know if I would have considered her behavior to be an attempt at flirtation until, toward the end of the night, I saw her from the across the room staring at me with intense disdain. It burned me to the core; I think she might have stolen my soul.
Our drive home was considerably less eventful; thankfully Carmageddon was a giant flop and we didn't sit in traffic for hours upon hours.
Here's to hoping our next coastal adventure is just as exciting!
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