Tales of Time and Travel v3.0: Southern California

What good is getting a degree in geology?

When you get a degree in geology, you learn about volcanoes and earthquakes.
When you learn about volcanoes and earthquakes, you move out of California - just to be safe.
When you move out of California, you lose contact with all of your old high school friends.

When you lose contact with all of your old high school friends, they have no one to rely on for advice about the dangers of volcanoes and earthquakes.

When your old friends have no one to rely on, they unwittingly move to Southern California to be at the mercy of earthquakes and volcanoes (maybe not volcanoes so much - but certainly serial killers & machete wielding wackos to be sure) 
When your old friends in Southern California realize they are in danger from earthquakes and volcanoes they need to talk to a geologiost.
When they need to talk to a geologist they have to track you down and give you call.

When your old high school friends in Southern California give you a call, you can ask them to get discount tickets for Disneyland and a place stay.

So, get a degree in geology and get a discount on Disneyland tickets (and do it before California shakes and falls into the Pacific Ocean).

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You see I did get a degree in geology, and one afternoon last January, my cell phone rings, and the cheery, high voice says, "Mark?  This is Carol!"  I think to myself, "Oh Carol! - Just how many Carols do I know? And how do I find out which (if any) of the Carols I know, belong to this voice?"  Then she expounds and fills in the void for me, "Yeah, you know; Carol C___".  Why yes, it is my favorite Carol - only I have not heard her voice in about 30 years.  With identities established and the ice broken, Carol gets right to the matter, "I am freaking out."  Carol is calling from Orange County, California and is gravely concerned about a research paper published by the US Geological Survey about a possible analog between the San Andreas Fault and the fault that caused the tsunami in Japan last year.  Carol is informed about different fault motions and their consequences.  Never-the-less I try to put it all in perspective for her, the odds of an earthquake in the next few weeks is small.  The odds of an earthquake eventually striking in Southern California are large.  Orange County is to be truthful, a seismically active area.  Would she be safer in Madera, in the San Joaquin Valley, she asks?  "Yes" is the short answer.  We discuss how to survive structural collapse and other up-beat topics after our 30 year hiatus.  It was really good to hear from Carol again after so long.

While The OC remains quiescent and unscathed, Grant and I plan a trip out West so see his sister, Inga graduate form the University of Oregon.  Grant's #1 sightseeing priority on the westward trip is to cross another Major League Baseball stadium off his bucket list.  The Los Angeles Angels (of Anaheim) are out of town, but the Dodgers will be playing an evening game while we are there. 

I texted Carol C___ and ask about the better parts of town to stay in while visiting Dodger Stadium.  Carol replies, "Why don't you guys stay with me?"  I say, 'why not?'  And plans are made.

**********

Monday is a day of great contrasts.

We awake to the chattering of birds at first light, around 5:10 AM (Pacific Time) in the National Forest adjacent to the Grand Canyon.  We quickly rise, strike the tent and roll up the bags and stow the camping gear in the back of The Q.  We drive off the Kaibab Plateau with of course very little traffic.  

Noon time brings us into Las Vegas.  Oh my.  In the old days, the casinos lured the touri into the their darkened dens, and past the gaming tables with offers of 99-cent Champagne Brunch, or All-You-Can-Eat Prime Rib Buffet for $4.99.  Those days of yore have alas, passed.  I picked a somewhat familiar boulevard, namely Tropicana Blvd, to exit off the freeway and drove down toward the high rises looking for a suitable, glitzy, over-the-top lunch venue.  After several attempts, I found the entrance to the Circus Circus parking garage.

We wandered through parking lots and some hotel additions and found our way into Circus Circus Casino.  It was a low-light tawdry maze of cheap (not inexpensive) galleries and arcades populated by Japanese and Peruvian parents with young kids.  We found a not-so-cheap, somewhat thread-bare restaurant that was understaffed.  We waited for service a long while, while we perused their menu that was heavy on the potty humor to go along with the mini-toilet table center piece.  If ever there is a time to enjoy Las Vegas, Monday afternoon is not it.  We lost 2 hours of precious travel time (but no gambling money), in my attempt to add another "memorable experience" to our travels.   Like many before, I regret stopping in Las Vegas.

Leaving Las Vegas on I-15 was dense and tense - all the way to LA.  High-speed (up to 85 MPH) and at times bumper to bumper in the middle of the Mojave Desert, all the while gusty dusty hot winds were buffeting us.  That stretch of road gets a big yuck from me.  I had texted Carol, who was expecting us, that we would likely stop for a shower in LA [meaning her place] before we went to see the Dodgers play at 7 that night.  Carol was confused by my term LA.  You see, she lives in Orange County, and thought that I had a 'wedding shower' to attend in Los Angels before I came to her place in The OC.  But to me, "LA" means anything between Bakersfield and San Diego.  Carol assured us, she did NOT live in LA.  My mistake - but I did not want to admit it.

It was slow, rush-hour traffic north from Tustin to Dodger Stadium.  But, I must say, the densly packed SoCal drivers were almost entirely a very polite lot; signaling their turns and once somebody signaled, the cars in traffic without exception allowed the signaling vehicle to pull in front.  I do not see such civility in Texas, nor any of the other places I visited on this trip.

Dodger Stadium
Dodgers v. Daimondbacks

We arrived at the sparsely filled Dodger Stadium in the bottom of the 1st Inning.  The home team's star pitcher, Clayton Kershaw had the upper hand as we watched from the first base side, eating Dodger Dogs while Grant scored the game. 

Us non-locals watched in shorts and short-sleeves (the ONLY thing you would wear outside in Texas), while the locals pulled on their sweat shirts as the sun set and the temperatures dipped into 60's.  The visiting first-place Diamondbacks rallied and took the lead.  The Dodgers made a valiant comeback effort, but they fell short.



Grant completes tasks on his phone

after finishing his second

'Dodger Dog'



We exited the stadium to the aroma of pot and began our next adventure - finding where I had parked the car.  I knew we were in the vicinity of left field and remembered the LA skyline was directly behind us, so in our first foray I knew we had passed our parking spot when we got behind center field.  Grant had his idea of where we parked, while I tried another route.  We split up, I then described what I remembered of our location to a couple of security guys and they concluded that I was likely parked in Lot 8  (Grant was already on his way there). I took the offer to ride in the security guy's golf cart over to Lot 8.  My escort and I arrived as Grant was standing next to the car phoning me.

The next adventure was to find The 5 south back to Carol's [putting "The" in front of the highway number was a California-specific speech affect I had lost over the past 30 years].   After driving for 14 hours, my contact lenses were dry and opaque.  I should have let Grant drive, but instead he punched up our location on his iPhone and directed me to various streets until we reached the entrance to The 5, and then suggested lane changes and merges as I sped along.  Still hungry despite spending $50 on ballpark food, Grant then searched his phone for restaurants that were still open.  He located an Appleby's 7 miles off the main route, we took it and had a late meal.

Carol was already asleep. So we let ourselves in with the key she had given us and quickly dropped into bed, Grant in the loft/office while I got the guest bedroom.  No time to reflect on a day that took us from the solitude along the rim of the Grand Canyon at 8,800', through Las Vegas and finally to the dense urbanity of sea level LA, where we finish the day watching baseball.  A day of contrast.  We started the morning at the Grand Canyon, we finished the night at Chavez Ravine (site of Dodger Stadium) - but that is not to say we are in a rut.

 

* The last time I visited Dodger Stadium (~1972) I walked very hard, head-long into a concrete pillar that I think concussed me; and I later lost my ingested Philadelphia Creme Cheese sandwich while going back north over the Grapevine (I-5).  This night was a bit better - as I now know where those pillars are placed.