Saturday, April 03, 2010


Here We Are Now, Entertain Us

I kept on driving and kept on driving, secure in the knowledge that Santa Clara was big, and that there would be signs. I remembered vaguely from my look at the map that it was somewhere near San Jose. (foreshadowing)

That whole bridge thingie had picked me up, bigtime, and I was starting to believe that maybe I would stay alive to get to Santa Clara, after all. I really, really love driving but I'd been doing a lot of this trip down unfamiliar roads, after dark and in the rain. Not the ideal driving conditions and I was starting to fade.


To the point where I was getting a little scared.

The knowledge that everyone in California has at least three handguns didn't make it any easier for me but I hadn't been shot at more than seven, eight times so I wasn't really all that concerned.*

Finally I saw the signs for San Jose (which is apparently larger than Santa Clara and does have signs.) I got off the highway and started noodling about looking for signs to Santa Clara. I finally saw one and followed the sign and then found a gas station that was open. I pulled over so I could ask for directions to the Best Western, where we had a reservation, and then noticed that the Best Western was right across the street.

I drove over there and parked, So Freakin' Relieved to finally be at the end of my journey. I sauntered into the office and was met by a small girl who looked at me in great confusion and then went into the back office to get a larger man. A man who, alas, also looked at me in great confusion. I immediately suspected that I had encountered one of the Californians who was very serious about his weed.

Him: Can I help you?

Me: Yes, I have a reservation. My friends are already here and I'd like the key to our room.

Him: Oh. You'd like another room?

Me: No. I have a reservation. There will be three of us in the room. I'd like the key to the room so I can go and sleep.

Him: OK, what's the room number?

Me: I don't know. Maybe you could look it up?

Him: Oh. Oh, yeah. What's the name?

Well, I gave him my name, and there was no reservation. Then I gave him Tracy's name ... still no reservation. (By this time I must say that I was having some reservations, myself.) I gave him another name under which Tracy might be registered. No reservation. Then I gave him Carry's name. Still no reservation.

Me: Um, this is Santa Clara, right?

Him: Uh. No. No, it's San Jose.

Me: (brightly) Oh! Well, that would likely explain why you don't have a reservation for us!

Him: Probably.

Me: Nevermind then, thank you for your time!

He gave me directions to Santa Clara and returned to his weed-enhanced fog in the back room. I set off again, too tired to be embarrassed and secure in the knowledge that come morning he wouldn't remember any of our names anyhow.

I followed his directions and soon became completely lost, seeing I'd apparently only listened to the first of about seven different things I was supposed to do. I went into a 7-11 to get further directions.

Me: I'm sorry to bother you (we Canadians are so polite! Don't you love us?) but I seem to be lost. Could you tell me how to get to Santa Clara from here?

Him: Saga Babba?

Me: No. Santa Clara.

Him: Sabla Wawa?

Me: No. Santa Clara.

Him: I new here.

Gee. I never would have guessed. I thanked him for his time (again with the so polite!) and went over to the Taco Bell where a nice young lady didn't seem to think I was a total assbucket for going through the drive-through and not ordering food but instead asking for directions.

She was very clear. I followed the first two directions and then ... um. (I think y'all saw this coming, no?) I got lost.

I found a nice-looking hotel and the very polite man behind the counter (I suspect he was Canadian) gave me directions to where I was going. Fortunately I had been zeroing in on my target and this time there were only two steps to the directions.

THIS time, I did not get lost.

I got to the hotel, and oh thank the blessed FSM, there was a reservation. They knew who I was! (I suspect that because by this time almost everyone in California had heard about the demented woman in the car full of yarn who knew the way to San Jose but not to anywhere else.)

The clerk gave me the room key and gave me directions to the room.

And um, then? Can we all say it in chorus? Yeah. I got lost.

I finally found the right hotel room (the women standing on the balcony screaming "Rabbitch" gave it away) which was in fact one building away from where I had been engaged in a futile search for our room. We unloaded the car and I collapsed gratefully on the bed, greatly in need of beer.

Only to find that the bitches hadn't bought any.

They had flown, so couldn't bring liquids with them, but there were STORES dude, and they were OPEN. All I can say at this point is that There Will Be Retribution.

Eventually, we all slept, as we had to be up in a ridiculously small number of hours to do set-up. They claimed that I snore. They lie.

*As far as I know, nobody shot at me, or at anyone else for that matter.

to be continued ...

there were STORES dude

And it being California, you can get pretty much any alcohol in the GROCERY STORE. I came from a place with blue laws (a red state with blue laws, har har) where alcohol was strictly prohibited except in small liquor stores, oddly named "package stores" or "ABC stores".
San Jose is a bad neighborhood. glad you made it thru alive! Oh wait, I haven't read if you made it home. Never mind. Good luck!
Too bad the fiber festival wasn't in Wisconsin, home of beerbeerbeer. We have it in the drinking fountains, as required by law.
Dear Rabbitch,

Please come over to my house (if you think you won't get lost) and have some of my beer. Since I gave up booze for Lent I have lots...but now that it's Easter Sunday all bets are off and you'd better hurry. :-)
Oh, no, you don't snore, you SHAKE THE FREAKIN' WALLS!!! ;)

But then maybe *that* was our retribution for not having beer on hand?
Who the frik hits a hotel without beer?! That's just crazy talk.
I'm really sorry you got lost eleventy times, but really you have to stop writing missives that cause me to gigglesnort up my oolong tea all over the monitor. Please. Well, okay then, don't.
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?