Road trip with 2 bitches, part 2

You should know what you're reading...no need to recap. If you are click happy and ended up here by mistake...stay, read, tell your friends.

Onto...

Day 2
Upon departure from the futon of death, I headed straight to the cooler for a tasty adult beverage. Bitch and bitch were obviously not hardened campers like me, and chose sobriety and packing over laziness and drinking. Rookies. Well...they were the ones doing the driving. I guess that's a valid reason. If you're one of THOSE kinda people.

Due to the wonders of geography, 90% of our drive that day was through Oregon, even though we were going from a place in Washington, to a place...in Washington. It was about a 2 hour drive from Paradise Point to Cape Disappointment. Jim and Jess started bickering by minute 2.

It was pretty funny, actually. Jim was super hungry. We'd drive through some village...Jess would ask if we should stop at the gas station on the left...Jim would interrupt with a restaurant request on the right...and before they could decide anything, we would be past them both, leaving said village. In addition to being hungry, Jim had no smokes. Thus, he was not a happy camper. GET IT? A HAPPY CAMPER? After multiple requests to "turn that frown upside down", Jim was starting to crack. This was the beginning of his "I'm gonna punch you in the face" threats. Sadly, this threat never came to fruition, despite my best attempts.

Due to my awesome navigation skills, we managed to make it to Astoria. It was pissing rain, but we hung out on the pier for a bit, checking out the wildlife and such. Tim was compared to the sea lion in front of us. How original. Bastards. We had lunch in town at a nice waterfront restaurant (where the dumbass waitress forgot to bring my fat tire!), then walked around the town for a bit. I really like the place...although I'm not too sure why. The bitches didn't seem impressed.

Finally we got to one of the things I really wanted to check out....the uber-long bridge. It's 4.1 miles, across the mouth of the columbia river, back into Washington. The weather was shit, so we couldn't see the other side till we were within a mile of it. The bridge was...well, a bridge. After we got across, I realized something...why the fuck was I so excited to see a bridge? I = weird.

After a little while, we stumble upon the area we're supposed to be at. We drive past Ilwaco, up to a lighthouse. The weather had not improved at all, but we went to check it out. Bitch and bitch bust out their trusty Walmart ponchos. I wear my hoody. They look queer. I look...well, like a fat drunk. I guess it's a tie?

The wind was unbelievable up at the lighthouse...it was awesome. It was strong enough to almost knock me over, which is quite a feat. After goofing around in the rain/wind, and listening to Jim's pathetic "I'm gonna push you off the cliff, dilly bar!!"* threats, we went back to to the car, and back to Ilwaco to buy beer/water/elephants.

* He started calling me dilly bar on the drive down. Like a lot of what Jim says, I have no idea where this came from.

The store was your typical redneck haven o' shopping. Chew, live bait, liquor, and diapers all in the same aisle. No elephants though. Denied! The counter woman looked at our ID's, and asked me "Arr yew awl fishermen, on a boat?" Uhhh...what?

We managed to escape unharmed, and headed to...Cape Disappointment!

The cabin we rented was pretty shitty, and was located right next to the camp host. Since we are now full-on YURTHEADS (It's my blog, I'll invent brutal words if I want to dammit!), we went back to the front and requested a change of residence. We were rewarded with a dope yurt, in an area with no other campers/yurtheads as far as the eye could see. Now we're talkin.

I opened a beer approximately 11 seconds after we got there. Go Keystone Light! I was stuck with the top bunk in this yurt, even after explaining that my manatee-like body could collapse the thin piece of plywood seperating me from Jess, who was sleeping below. My logic was veto'd.

Jim is a hardcore dude, so after all this excitement, he needed...a nap. After laughing at him for a bit, Jess and I decided to go to the park store. When we arrived, we were greeted by a redneck woman outside her truck, who looked like she was talking to a bush. Umm...okay. It was only after she moved her dumpy ass outta the way, that we saw...a raccoon. With no tail. Standing on his hind legs, staring at us. Not scared in the least. Umm...okay.

We went into the store and asked about said raccoon...the lady told us that he was attacked by a cougar, and nursed back to health by the owner of the store. When they released him back into the wild...he didn't leave. He just hangs out by the store. The lady then told us that the little guy waits for people to come into the store, follows them in, steals candy bars from the rack by the door, and takes off before the door shuts! This was the best story I heard on the whole trip. Priceless...I couldn't stop laughing.

Jess ended up buying a can of beans, and we left. After returning to our yurt and waking up city boy, we went to check out what this place had to offer. First stop: Killer Jetty. For the uninformed:

jet-ty - a pier or structure of stones, piles, or the like, projecting into the sea or other body of water to protect a harbor, deflect the current, etc.



It was pretty long...at least a km, probably more. Waves were crashing up on the jetty a little bit, but nothing insane. Jim and I walked pretty far out along it and drank a beer, while artsy bitch took pictures of birds and waves n shit. The view was pretty cool...I was very impressed.

And then....



Jim got eaten by a wave!! YES!

Actually, he wasn't that wet...but it was still pretty funny, and good timing by Jess.

After our jetty antics, we returned to the yurt. The weather wasn't cooperating very much...thus, the fire Jess attempted to make fizzled out quicker than Jim's patience. Jess had bought a can of beans, but had no way to A) open the can; B) cook the beans on the fire; and C) get the beans from the can to his mouth, assuming he solved A and B. After somehow opening the can, and constructing some sort of retarded cupholder out of a metal hot dog stick, he managed to cook the fucking beans...and ate them with his finger. Reason number 29 why this was retarded? The dipshit doesn't even like beans!

An executive decision was made to retire to the yurt for the night to play poker and watch a movie on un laptop de artsy bitch. And drink beer. We started watching 1408...it blew. A side effect of beer drinking though, is the constant need to...ya know, take a piss. I was waaaay too lazy to actually step off our deck and walk over to a tree, so I pissed off the side. After finishing up, I turn around to come back inside and observe...

A big fucking raccoon making a beeline for the open yurt door. And he had a tail.

I've had my fair share of raccoon issues in the past (see Toronto hostel blog, circa 2004), so I did what any man would do. I screamed like a girl, ran inside, slammed the door, and told the bitches of my encounter with the hippo-sized carnivore.

Of course, I was greeted with laughter and ridicule. Guilty as charged.

Jess jumped up right away, opened the door, and coaxed the man-eater up onto the deck. He didn't eat Jess. And he wasn't hippo-sized. He was...well, raccoon-sized. And friendly. A couple of his friends eventually joined him too. The bitches proceeded to feed them for a little while, while I drank on my safe top bunk. I was shouting stuff like "THOSE ARE WILD ANIMALS! DON'T FEED THEM OUTTA YOUR HANDS! YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY! YOU COULD GET RABIES!"

Suddenly, I was 85 years old or something.

They took off after a while, and we returned to 1408. It was just as bad as pre-raccoon. Jim started the gas party with some napalm-like farts. Being on the top bunk for this did not make me a HAPPY CAMPER! GET IT? Alas, Jess and his beans soon returned the favour. Jess bareass-farted on Jim's head while he was busy watching the movie. Bare ass people. He was not amused, since he probably had poo particles in his hair n shit. Jess and I laughed for a long ass time. More "I'm gonna punch you in the face" threats ensued. Fun was had.

After that hilarity, we started watching Knocked Up, but we all just passed the fuck out before it was over. And Jim smelled like Britt poo.

This is pretty long, so I'll finish it up in a seperate entry.

Road trip with 2 bitches, part 1

About a month ago, Jess and I decided we need a mini-vacation. We floated a few ideas around, but the best one seemed to be the Oregon/Washington Coast. We looked into camping...but camping in October = wet and cold. And let's face it, Jess and I are crybabies. So we found the next best thing...yurts!

A yurt is a mongolian tent thinger, with a roof. Circular, 16 ft around. Has a bunkbed and futon couch inside, wood floors, lights, electricity, and heat.





There, that's a yurt. Tim's new, improved blogs come with pictures! Contain your joy.

Anyways, there weren't a ton of choices for these lovely yurts, since a lot of them were already reserved. We settled on 1 night at Paradise Point, in southern WA, and 2 nights at...Cape Disappointment! I know, brutal name. It's on the southwestern tip of WA, a few miles from the Oregon border. Pardon the pun, but it most definitely did not disappoint.

Oh yea, we also recruited the other bitch for the trip, Jim. He needed a break from the rigors of watching concerts and getting drunk. Just kidding, little guy.

Day 1

Sane people leave for a trip when they get off work on friday, right? Nope, not us. Jess had school. On saturday. SATURDAY! And he can't miss a class, cuz his 450 lb teacher will end him. That, and he's a huge nerd who loooves to learn. So bitch went to school saturday till 11AM or so, then came and got me. We braved cambie construction to go get Jim...then back to Jess's...then get the rental car...in other words, we didn't cross the border till closer to 3:30pm. We got grilled at the border by a low-rent Dave Chappelle about our intentions in the states, then it was off to Jack In the Box. Where I think I saw Jana.

After that, we were off. Dipshits 1 and 2 decided stopping every 3rd exit was a good idea, so we didn't get to Paradise Point till about 9:45. We stopped at: 2 gas stations, WalMart, a closed liquor store, and another gas station. And went BACK to the last gas station after we got there. We gassed up exactly once. You do the math.

I did get a cool camo hat at a gas station for 5.99...and found the same hat 10 minutes after at walmart for 2 bucks. Bastards. Bitch squared got ponchos and various other retarded things at walmart. And I couldn't figure out how to use the automated checkout stand. And they made fun of me. Well played, assholes.

Jim was not amused that I forgot to change money before we crossed the border, so I had 200 canadian on me...and no one would take it. We traded 60 bucks (how cool is it to trade USD for CAD straight up?), and he whined for all 3 days about how he was short on american...even though he still had more than enough. Can you tell he's related to Jess?

By the way, let me make the joke for you, since you're probably thinking it....yes, 3 men went to a place called Paradise Point. Yes, that sounds slightly sexually challenged. Yes, I was even mounted by another man there. Wait, what? I'll get to that later. But for the record, this location choice was purely coincidental, and is not a reflection of the sexuality of me or Jess. Jim...still not so sure.

Paradise Point was not exactly Eden. It was about 32 feet off the interstate, actually. After cracking a beer, checking out the yurt, and making fun of the korean family in the next yurt (does it smerr rike flied puppy face to you? Are they BBQing?), Jess attempted to make a fire. Jim thwarted all such attempts. Jess got annoyed. Jim laughed. After 2 hours, an entire bottle of lighter fluid, and burning every piece of paper we had, Jess had finally made a fire. A shitty fire, but a fire nonetheless.

For some reason, Jess the Brilliant claimed the top bunk before we left, on my facebook wall. For the world to see. Why? I have no idea...who the fuck wants the top bunk? He tried to deny he staked this claim, but it's documented ON THE INTARWEB! Internet 1, Jess 0. Anyways, I got the futon. It had two wooden pegs holding it in position as a couch. Take pegs out, voila...a bed. One problem with this.

Attached to the pegs are big, hammer-like wooden ends. These things were big fucking mallets.

As soon as we figured that out, we beat the living shit out of each other with them, of course. Jess destroyed my knee. I clubbered Jim a couple times. Jim was not amused, so he climbed up onto the top bunk, and frogsplashed me from the top. Twice. Then proceeded to climb on top of me and "pink belly" me. This was as disturbing as it sounds, people. He sat on my back and slapped my gunt until it turned pink. I was powerless to stop him, because he had full mount. FULL MOUNT! If I had flattened out in an escape attempt, it was rear naked choke time, and I'm done like dinner. Don't mess with the rear naked.

Yup, rear naked and pink belly in the same paragraph. See why I'm still a little worried about him? I can just see the hamster in Ottawa Mike's head running like hell on his wheel, churning out 40 homo jokes a second. By the end of this, he should have more material than a pair of Rosie's pants.

Anyways, these 2 sissies were completely shitfaced off of 6 beers a piece. I had consumed 6 tallies, and 6 regulars...and was fine. Jim passed out first, cuz he was "soo drunk", and me n Jess bullshitted about hockey for hours till we finally passed out.

Part 2 will include - plenty of Jim-Jess disagreements, nature's wrath, raccoon hijinks, rednecks, malt liquor energy drinks, air hockey injuries, almost dying, and me winning the mother of all arguments. Stay tuned.

I feel cheated

I'm a little behind the times in regards to this, but it's an absolute fucking travesty. The government is creating laws out of thin air, just to make sure canadians cannot possibly be entertained. I hope you will join me in signing a petition repealing this stupid and pointless law.

Read for yourself. I'll send the link to the petition if you're willing to help me out with this.

http://www.ontla.on.ca/web/bills/bills_detail.do?locale=en&BillID=1128

Wow...

My favourite wrestler killed his family, and himself. I think I need to re-evaluate whom I consider a role model.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,286673,00.html

Funny

Check this pic.



What the fuck is the kid 3rd from the left?

He's an oompa loompa!

Conclusion - Sacramento/Yosemite

I'm a lot less sober than the last entry, so maybe I'll get some comments this time. Apparently writing sober doesn't equal feedback!

I'd like to start this blog with a thank you. It has absolutely nothing to do with my trip...but I had some people over tonight, to play some cards and such. Before they arrived, I had 14 beers in the fridge. By the time they left, I had consumed 14 beers. And...I now have a grand total of 20 drinks in my fridge. Coronas, Kokanees, frilly girl drinks, you name it. In case you cared...I love my friends! If this blog doesn't make sense...blame them, dammit.

Okay, back to the trip.

Bitch and I got up early, and took a cab to the airport. The SD airport is super close to the city, which is very nice. In case you misssed it, I love SD. We were on separate flights to Sacramento though. Jess wanted United air miles, so he booked a flight that connected in San Fran. I flew direct on Southwest. This meant my flight left a half hour later than his, and arrived 1.5 hours before his.

Or so we thought.

Upon airport arrival, he checks in, and has to deal with a security lineup longer than a needle exchange on Hastings. Me? I waddle down to Southwest, check in, and deal with approximately 4 people in the security lineup. Yes, I am a walking advertisement for Southwest. Anyways, I board, and enjoy a nice comfy, half full flight to the state capital.

Jess...not so much.

On the flight, I started talking to the girl next to me, who, SURPRISINGLY, talked back! She wasn't uber hot...but hey, neither am I, right?

Oddly, she had to wait for someone from another flight like I did, so after we landed we ended up hanging out in the baggage area for a while. Jess's flight was supposed to land at 10:28. At 10:26...I realized there's 2 terminals in the Sacramento airport.

And I was in the wrong one. Oops.

I ran (really, it happened) to the other terminal. Check the screens....his flight's on time. I'm 4 minutes late. Not so bad, he should show up soon. Or not.

15 minutes pass...30...45? The screen still says his flight is on time, but it doesn't say "arrived", like every other flight. very, very odd. I walk around the terminal, thinking I must be at the wrong place. No Jess. I did what any man would do in that situation.

I went to the f'n airport bar. God damn right.

After a beer or 2, I wandered back into the area he should be in. No Jess. Screen still says on time. I'm standing there, looking as thoughtless as normal...and some guy comes up and asks if "I'm Tim".

Last time I checked.....yup...that's me.

This guy was Jess's uncle, the guy that was supposed to pick us up from the airport, cuz we were stayin at his place. Apparently, Jess told him to look for "the biggest guy in the airport...he's wearing a stupid red jersey".

This is how I met Roger.

First thing he told me was that Jess's flight from SF to SAC was cancelled. I went to point out the screen of wisdom's contention that Jess's flight was "on time". When I got there...it said his flight was cancelled. Just like Roger said. DAMN. That motherfucking screen changed in 37 seconds, tops. Thus, I sounded retarded. Not the first time, don't worry.

Anyways, Roger talked to Jess, and there was a chance he might get on a flight leaving ASAP, so he suggested a beer at the bar. Well....duh. Fat kid...smartie....I was all over...piece it together yourselves.

After a couple there (that Roger paid for), Jess called Roger and told him that flight was killed too, so he was renting a car with some fellow stranded passengers, and would be there in 3 hours or so. Roger suggested we go for lunch "on the river", and we'd meet up with Jess when he got there. Sure, why not?

We went down to a place that was literally on the river, and had a great lunch...seriously awesome food, killer view, and Dos Equis Amber. Brilliant. And Roger paid for me again. Cuz I "was on vacation" or something. I want uncles like this!

Side note - this was the same river that 2 humpbacks ended about 100km up, accidentally. Right where we were. I didn't see no whales (no mirrors in the can), but it was pretty weird to find that shit out after I got home.

Anyways, bitch finally called and said he was close. We found him at a truck stop, servicing the driver for the ride. Okay, maybe not...but it made me laugh, dammit!

Roger took us to a grocery store, where I purchaaaayzed an 18 pack of miller lite for 10.99. That works out to like 61 cents a beer. I fucking love this place!! Bitch bought tequila and mix, Roger grabbed a case of Dos Equis Amber and the ass end of a cow, and we were off and running.

I'm not lying about the ass end of a cow....Roger BBQ'ed the thickest cut of meat I have ever seen. It was thicker than my gunt, no joke...but it was actual meat, very little fat. That shit was good, too!

Bitch and me were sittin inside after dinner. I was drinking my miller lites...Jess was drinking tequila on the rocks, cuz he's a homo like that. Anyways, after Jess takes a big sip of te-kill-ya, I did something dumb to make him laugh.

He manages to snort tequila into his sinuses...and it almost comes out his nose.

YES!

I don't think I've ever been that proud of myself...he had been teasing me all night...and quite effectively, I might add. Him snorting tequila was the ultimate comeback. He was FUCKED UP. Tears, whining, the whole deal. It was...redemption!

By the way, I'm not a big poodle fan...but Roger and his wife have the coolest poodle ever. It's sooo cute, and super smart. And it slept on the couch with me, so it was obviously cool. : )

I woke up the next day, and we went out for brunch. Normal, right? Well, we're sittin on the patio, and a whole wedding party shows up. On a friday. At noon. They all ate at the place, post-wedding. On friday. At noon. It was....well, fucking odd. 3 cheers for not being latino!

Around 2PM, we head south. Roger had just purchased a new GPS thinger, and it gave us directions to Yosemite. After a quick stop in Stockton for gas and a hat, we were on our way. Apparently the GPS has a hard-on for the long way...but eventually we showed up at our lodge outside of the actual park, where we had reserved a room. It's 5PM, the middle of nowhere....what do we do? Roger actually suggested the bar first...I'm almost jealous he's not my uncle.

The hotel bar has 6 people in it...us 3, the bartender, and an older couple. The older guy was talking about the 100 year anniversary of the rail link between yosemite and merced. Woo. Like we care. He says they interviewed him on the news, and he might be on TV tonight. Okay buddy. Not fucking 40 seconds after he says that, there he is on the damn TV. He was the star of the fucking story. Jess and I are staring at the Channel 5 news, at each other, then at buddy...then back at the TV. Fuck me, the guy next to me at the bar's on TV! In the middle of fucking nowhere!

After a good 4 hours, we've racked up a bill well over 100 bucks. And fucking Roger paid the bill! I was speechless....this man had no reason to be so nice to me, but he was. If you ever read this Roger, I am forever in your debt. Thank you.

Anyways, we all go back to the hotel room, but me n Jess weren't done yet. We went back to the hotel bar round 11:30, and played photo hunt till we closed the place. And I did a jager bomb, I think. Ugh.

Next morning, we headed off to Yosemite. Seriously, no blog will ever do this place justice. It is, quite simply, nature's paradise. Waterfalls beyond belief, mountains beyond that, and everything in between. Fuck, when we finally pulled into a parking spot near the visitors centre....Jess tried to take a pic of a woodpecker...and a coyote ran right up to us. Not scared in the least. He chilled for a bit, then wandered away. It was surreal.

Roger came up with the idea for a hike, which sounded good to me, surprisingly. He said we'd hike a couple of miles to a waterfall. Cool. It's a waterfall.

Fuckin stupid liars.

I'm figuring level ground, right? Do the math. Water. Falls. To the fucking ground, right? Oh no. We hiked uphill...to the falls. What the fuck? It falls!

Just in case you drifted through logic 101...

Why am I hiking UPHILL to something that FALLS?

Anyways....apparently it was called the "mist trail". I called it the "7th circle of hell trail". Jesus fuck, it was straight uphill. Oooh, look at the pretty squirrel. Do I fucking care? My fat heart is going to explode on the pretty fucking squirrel!

I didn't think I'd come close to covering it all...till I got passed by a guy that was at least 146. No joke, this guy was motoring...ya know, for an old guy. There was no way I was gonna let Bob Barker get up this shit before me. OH HELL NO. I passed that old bastard when he got gassed on a huge upswing...and it doesn't make me a bad person to admit that I was proud. Pwned!

There's a bridge that gives you a beautiful view of the falls. It's about 2/3 of the way up...I honestly never thought I'd make it that far, but I did. It was worth it...it actually was really beautiful, or some other emo word for nice. Jess and Roger encouraged me to continue to the top, which I was convinced I might actually have a shot at. I kept going, up the mist trail...I was doing pretty good, actually. Well, for me. Then I came across...400 stairs.

400!

I've been hiking up the side of mount killafatty for 2 hours now...and you want me to climb 400 stairs. W...T...F. Fuuuck you mountain!

That was the peak of my yosemite adventures...literally. On the way down, I managed to piss people off though. This wouldn't be one of my stories if everyone left happy.

Some older dude (in his 50's?) said "I'm gonna go all the way" in reference to, ya know, the top of the trail. He was in a group w/ a semi-attractive blond girl, and a few other people. Once I saw blondie, I said "Shiiiit, I'll go all the way with her". She didn't hear me, cuz she had already passed me. Her friend did though.

"What the fuck did you say?"

She wasn't too bad either. Yosemite's bringing out the bitches! Anyways, I respond with my typical creativity....


"I'd go all the way with you too. What! Where you going?"

Yes, I left the park female-less. Contain your surprise.

We went up to El Centro, to celebrate the 100 year anniversary of the train. The same train buddy was hoggin TV time about the night before. Jess took some pics of said train, then we hung out w/ the locals. When I went to purchaaayze beer, the woman couldn't believe I was from BC. Apparently BC people didn't come to small towns to see american idol failures and eat 50 cent hot dogs. Who woulda thunk it?

We were doubting the GPS's powers, so we decided to take a different way home. I named the GPS Suzie, since her voice was kinda hot. Hey, I tagged a Suzie once, she was hot, and she had a very monotone voice. Leave me the fuck alone.

Suzie tried to fuck with us the whole way..."take a...U-Turn...here".....we'd ignore her drunken bitter rambling....0.7 miles away..."take a U-Turn...here...please?"

Fuck that bitch. We found our way back to Sacramento just fine. She wanted to go to Reno. I know it.

Anyways, we made it back to Sacramento. We drank. Sushi dinner, which I wasn't prepared for. More drinks, then sleep. They woke up at 6AM and took me to the airport.

I doubt Roger will ever read this, but thank you sooo much. I can't believe you're related to Jess. : ) If I ever get the chance, I will return your favours in kind.

I'll describe Portland in another short blog tomorrow.

Part 3...Tijuana/San Diego

Since a bunch of people have been bothering me about this, I thought I should continue the story. I'm at work...this means I'm sober...so this might not be as entertaining as usual. If you don't enjoy it...tough poopy. : )

I believe we had just caught a cab to the La Paz airport at the end of blog 2. This was uneventful. Get to the airport really early (Jess and I seem to do this a lot for some reason), and get a beer and some food. Before you check in for your flights here, you put your bags through a big screening machine. And then push a button attached to a huge stoplight. Green, you're good to go. Red, you get bumrushed by security. No, I'm not kidding. Anyways, we're both green, luckily.

After that, we come across 2 other mexican security guys who manually search checked baggage. You'd think the SCREENING MACHINE might cover this one...but nope. Of course, they spoke zero english. I didn't check any bags, so I was ignored. Jess, on the other hand, had to play charades with one guy for a few minutes. After a whole lot of hand signals and the word "shave" repeated about 70 times, the guy figured out Jess has an electric razor, no blades..and we were good to go, once again.

Get to the checkin counter finally...this guy speaks english. YES. Get exit row seats. YES. The guy at the next counter starts pointing at me and saying something in spanish to our checkin guy. NO. He repeats our last names to him. NO. The mexican dude keeps pointing and asking something. I'm starting to get worried. Then, in broken english...he asks if I'm "Fitzgerald". Umm...no...why? OH...I'm wearing a Larry Fitzgerald jersey...and this little guy thinks I play in the NFL.

Ya know...Larry's 6'3...I'm 6'6. Close there. Larry's bout 230. I was a long time ago. I'll give him a pass on that one. Larry's black. I'm white. Check please...

After all that, we get to our gate. The La Paz airport is huge compared to the Bellingham airport. It has 3 gates! Eventually our plane comes, and we sit down in our nice comfy exit row seats...me on the aisle, Jess by the window. About 8 seconds before takeoff, there's a mad mexican scramble. All these little guys RUN from the back of the plane, and jump into every exit row seat possible, including the one between Jess and I.

This makes zero sense to me. The tallest one in this group is 5'6, tops. What the fuck do they need extra legroom for? They could just prop their legs up on the tray table in front of them, stretch out, and have a fucking nap. Instead, poncho wants legroom, and both armrests. Him and Jess threw elbows for most of the trip...which was pretty funny, actually.

So we eventually arrive in the land I've heard so much scary shit about....Tijuana. Our goal is to get to San Diego in the safest manner possible. The guy at the greyhound window speaks no english. Great. All the other shuttles look pretty pricey. A cab to the border was 18 bucks...so we decided to go that route, and walk across. Apparently this is common. Lonely Planet said so.

There are cabs everywhere outside. And, for some reason, there are ticket windows for the cabs inside. 3 of them, all staffed by really really loud senoritas. All right next to each other. I walked within 20 feet of them, and they all started screaming at me...TAAAXXXXIIIIIII!!! Okay, I get it...the huge TAXI sign gave it away. I asked how much....they all said 18 dollars at the same time.

They're all the same price? Why the fuck would they even compete with each other then? And why yell so much?

Ahh, the million unanswerable questions that is Mexico.

So we find a cab, pay the guy who arranged the cab (not the driver...odd) and set off. Into the depths of hell. We ended up going down all these side roads...over speed bumps...through the ghetto of all ghettos. I've never seen anything like it. I was sure he was taking us somewhere to relieve us of our bags, money, and existence. We were skirting the border I guess, cuz a huge fence covered in barb wire extended as far as the eye could see. I'm not gonna lie, I was worried. Jess was too...I think he peed a little.

Eventually the driver stops, in front of a group of guys. He says "San Ysidro" (the border town on the US side), and we get out.

I don't see no border crossing.

Right away, a guy starts talking to us. Apparently, they're cab drivers. Umm okay...I just got out of a cab, dipshit. The first one tells us that walking across the border will take 2 1/2 hours, and he can drive us across in 5 minutes. This sounds like bullshit to me....so I just walk away. Jess follows me, reluctantly. I have absolutely no idea where I am, but anything seemed better than hanging out with Vatos Locos Forever over there. For once in my life, I guessed the right direction. After 2 minutes of walking, VOILA...I see the border.

The whole walkway is lined with stores...some duty-free, some crafts, pretty much some of everything. In 0.5km of walking, at least 15 people asked me to enter their store. I declined 15 times. Jess decided to duck into the last duty-free store, and bought the bottle of expensive tequila he was looking for. And it was actually cheaper than he saw it in Cabo. Score.

After we leave there, we walk around the corner to see a huge lineup, snaking away from a building. That stupid cabbie was telling the truth. Odd, didn't look like any border crossing I've ever seen. All these people had luggage too, which seemed weird. We walked up, and realized everyone in line was mexican. Everyone. Odd again. After a couple minutes, Jess realizes this isn't the border...it's some sort of immigration stop mexicans have to make to get into the US, I guess. So we kept walking.

Eventually, we reach customs/immigration. There are about 12 people in line in front of us. In about 2 minutes, I'm speaking to a border guard.

*Tim hands passport over*

"How long were you in Mexico?"

"3 da"

"Go ahead"

"ys..."

That was it. I was amazed. Jess didn't even get asked about his tequila when he came through. It was the easiest crossing into the US I've ever experienced, by far.

2 1/2 hours to walk across? FU Pablo. The best part was there was a HUGE car line...it probably took...oh, I dunno....2 1/2 hours to get across by car?

As soon as you step out of the building in San Ysidro, to your right is the San Diego trolley line. After going 2 stops too far (my awesome navigational skills went right back into the tank), and a short cabride, we were at our hotel. The glorious Super 8. A TV! Wireless internet! Soap! CIVILIZATION!

We got cleaned up, and went looking for food/beer/bitches. Just kidding Jamie...just food/beer. Found a liquor store, bought beer. Dropped that off, then went looking for food. Ended up walking all the way back to the trolley stop (it's not really a trolley...more like the skytrain). This was located next to a mall. An open air mall, in fact. A super nice open air mall. I'm not a mall guy, but this place was pretty cool. Grabbed food from the wetback taco shack, or something similar. Jess has a fish taco.

Why is that important? Oh...you'll find out soon.

Rest of the night was just vegetating, drinking some beer, and planning the next day. Zoo time, bitches! Oh yeah, we also watched The 40 Year Old Virgin, which Jess had never seen. AHHH KELLY CLARKSON! I love that movie. Juhl, you know how I know you're gay? Cuz you like Coldplay. YES!

Wake up. Zoo time. Go to the lobby, and ask them to call us a cab. There's a van shuttle out front, he says he's a cab, and he'll take us to the zoo. Umm...okay. 16 bucks for 3 miles? Seems a bit pricey, but whatever. Get to the zoo, Jess goes to pay by credit card for us (I had to get cash inside, since there were no ATMS outside), and the guy tells Jess they have some special for Canadians on that day...it saved us like 10 bucks. I love San Diego!

Apparently, we picked a really hot day to go to the zoo. Even with the sunscreen we bought...I got pretty burned. On one arm, for some reason. And my face looked like my Cards jersey.

We walked around till we were exhausted (yes, I lasted further than 20 feet inside the gate, jackals), and Jess took some awesome pictures. The meerkats were the best. If you dunno what that is, google it. Anyways, there were a bunch of em just chillin, till a park employee came by, said hi to them, and jingled her keys. They ALL came running over to her. It was soo cool. Jess got some sweet pics of them. I want to buy like 20, and let them live in the yard. Yeah.

Anyways, once exhaustion set in, we took the bus that travels around the park (part of the Canadian special!) and relaxed. The chick driving and commentating cracked a good joke:

"These cats over here are very friendly when they're young, but once they get older, they're like engineers...they're just not very social."

Jess didn't find that very amusing.

Near the end, we drove by an area with some birds...the lady asked if we knew the significance of this particular bird...the jabiru stork.

Well duh. "THEY BRING BABIES," I said out loud.

Drumroll. No laughter. Even Jess just groaned. Fuck you, that was funny!

After the zoo, we took a cab back to the hotel. 16 dollars, 20 cents. Wow, Habib in the van shuttle WAS pretty accurate. Back to the mall...more fish tacos for Jess. Don't worry, I'm gettin to it.

While I'm drinking a few beers and watching TV, Jess is playing on the net. He gets up, without saying anything, and goes to the bathroom. Unfortunately, I didn't have the sound on the TV very high, and I had the bed closest to the can. What I heard next can't really be described well...the closest I can come is saying it sounded like a water balloon hitting a wall. Ewwww. And Jess yelling DAMN! sure didn't help.

An hour later, KABOOM, he's back. 2 hours after that, and so on. It was...well, gross. Why am I telling you about this? Cuz dammit, Jess will hate it!


Next day rolls around. Jess was gonna go to SeaWorld. There was no way in hell I was gonna pay 51 bucks to see a whale. I can look in the fucking mirror, and that's free. Eventually, he agreed that it was not worth nearly that much, and we decided to check out some more of SD. After Jess laid waste to the bathroom.

First stop was Old Town. Walked through it...mildly entertaining. Stopped for a beer and some food. Nuthin much to say bout this. Next, we decided to go to Coronado. It's an island, just across from downtown. It's also the location of a huge navy base. The ferry ride over there was really cool...passed by an aircraft carrier, which is now open for tours. Got onto the island...and had no idea what to do. The base was on the other side of the island, and we had no idea how to get there. So what do we do?

Go to Taco Bell. Where Jess laid waste to the bathroom.

After sitting around in another restaurant for a bit, not knowing what to do...we took the ferry back. Woo. Luckily for us, the ferry had to take a detour, and stop at...the navy base! Sweet! So we got to see a few cool ships and stuff.

Back on the other side, we went for a walk into the Gaslamp quarter, and stopped at a Wendys. Where Jess laid waste to the bathroom.

I knew this area of SD pretty well, since I've stayed down there a couple times. So we walked around some more, then eventually headed back to the hotel.

We didn't wanna go back to the mall for food again, cuz Jess was worried he'd get Hep C or something. Jess looked on the net for other suitable places...and found a Hooters. Sweet! We walk over to the Hooters...and there's no Hooters. I guess it closed. Dammit. So we ended up at the Valley's Death Diner or something, where a little mexican lady with no Hooters served us. Good food...but the eye candy left a lil to be desired.

I got more beer, Jess got imodium. Back at the hotel, I drank beer, Jess popped imodium. I finished beer....Jess laid waste to the bathroom.

Jess would like me to point out that he's not the slayer of toilets I make him out to be....he's a washroom connoisseur.

Sleepy time was early, cuz we had to be up at 5AM to catch our flights to Sacramento.

Thoughts on Tijuana...*shivers*. Thoughts on SD...I still love it. The people are nice, transit is good, beautiful city, the weather is cooperative...and it killed Jess. I love it.

Notice how we didn't go to ONE bar in SD? I know....what a travesty! I did manage to drink at least 30 miller lites though, so I didn't feel left out or anything.

Once again, bitch, if I missed anything, let me know.