In more ways than one.
First, the trip to LA. Man, I'm getting good at that - four hours, door to door, including the meeting.
Trips to LA were always so bittersweet, but still I always planned to make of a day of it, swing by some clients, visit some old haunts, drop by my favorite bookstore. I never ever followed through on any of it, too afraid of stirring up too many memories.
But honestly, for the last couple of trips, my attitude was... meh. In and out, get it over with and, dare I say it, go... home. I can't believe I just typed that.
But here's the really scary thing. On this trip, I got... LOST!
In LA!
Where I lived for 25 years!
I still can't believe it. I was driving down the freeway and suddenly realized I'd forgotten which exit to take. I took the wrong one, but figured I'd cross over on surface streets, and then I turned the wrong direction and didn't even realize it. I drove about a mile before it dawned on me that I was totally F'ed up.
Lordy, lordy lordy... it's all fading. You really CAN'T go home again.
But enough about that, back to last night's extravaganza (pictured above).
There was a change in plans and we ended up celebrating in the Colonial tradition of our Founding Fathers... without electricity.
The power went out.
It was about 8pm and I was rushing to get the dogs out for a walk before the dusk light faded and the mayhem began. And suddenly the power sputtered off.
We figured it would come back on shortly and I went ahead to take the dogs out. All of the neighbors were already congregating in their front yards, everyone checking to see if it was the whole block. I passed one neighbor, Michael, who was locking his front gate and headed out with a lawn chair.
"You obviously don't think it's coming back on any time soon" I said.
"It's not" he replied. "This happens all the time in this neighborhood. Every time it gets to be over about 105 the power goes out and it could be hours before it comes back on."
Someone might have thought to mention that when we were in escrow.
I asked him where he was headed and he said he was going to set up camp in the vacant lot around the corner. He said it had a good view of the fireworks from the local country club and that there was supposed to be a rocket launch from Vandenberg around 8:45, which should also put on a good show.
The dogs were unhappy in the heat and did their business and pulled me back home. The boyfriend was sitting there in the dark, fanning himself with a paper plate. The original plan was to go Full Metal Bako and wheel the BBQ out to the front and set up shop in the drive. The heat put a kibosh on that plan, but we still had the picnic tableware.
"Maybe we should just go ahead and start shooting off fireworks?" I said.
"Not dark enough yet" said the boyfriend.
OK. Fine. Then let's just shoot them off inside because it was definitely dark enough there.
"Why don't you call up the power company and make a scene?" he helpfully suggested.
Well that sounded like fun. And my cell phone was fully charged.
So I called PG&E, our local utility, the fine folks who blew up San Bruno in a natural gas explosion last year.
I was greeted by a rousing version of John Philip Sousa's "The Liberty Bell March" and the message that due to the Independence Day holiday, they were short staffed. Most people would recognize the music as the theme song to "Monty Python's Flying Circus". At least someone at PG&E has a sense of humor. Or just stupid. I'm going with "stupid".
At any rate, I got a very nice lady on the phone, a lovely woman. She said there was crew en route and apologized for this "unforeseen" event - triple digit heat in Bakersfield is evidently "unforeseen" by PG&E. I shudder to think what else is.
At that point, we headed outside to light off our stash. It's a good thing we bought a lot because we had some time to kill.
Now, I was concerned that these "safe & sane" fireworks would prove to be too tame and boring. We had done a test run the night before, and while pretty, they seemed to lack that certain danger that I knew as a kid.
But I need not have been concerned - most of our fireworks proved to be defective.
The "Apache Fire Dance"? Those proved to be I.E.D.'s. We had two of them and they both exploded like a half a stick of dynamite, blowing us back off our feet.
Others exploded like mortars, shooting flaming projectiles 20 feet in the air and dangerously close to some very dry trees. Still others turned into flamethrowers, shooting off sideways towards our arsenal in the driveway. I almost knocked over my wine glass rushing for a hose. All in all, it seemed less like a celebration of "Independence" and more a typical day in Iraq.
The boyfriend's car had been parked in the driveway and he had thrown open the doors and cranked the tunes. There was only one song I remember...
"Livin’ On A Prayer", by Bon Jovi.
That pretty much sums up America 2011, as far as I'm concerned.
The finale was absolutely spectacular. Not the firework - that proved to be a dud as well. But just as the boyfriend lit it, the power came back on.
God Bless America!
