It's hard to believe that we have lived in southern California for seven years. I probably would not have marked this anniversary in my mind at all except that we moved to Los Angeles on Cinco de Mayo. As we pulled up to our new apartment the air smelled of Catholicism and cervezas. After hitting traffic a few miles outside of LA, we arrived much later than planned- I think it was 7:00 or so on a Monday night and no help awaited us to unpack our truck. We had asked for help from the trusty EQ, but apparently we didn't coordinate things very well, and we were left to unpack the truck by ourselves. This was the pre-baby-FJs era, so we didn't have that much stuff, but I recall having back problems for several months afterward. Sometimes I think I'm strong, but this senorita is just not cut out for moving couches, refrigerators or hundred pound tables.
We finished unpacking and were left with the dilemma of what to do with the truck. Somehow we had neglected to print off the address and driving directions for where we were to return the truck. We found a phone book at a 7 Eleven and hoped that by looking at the addresses it would jog our memory as to which one we were supposed to return the truck to. Then, since this was before smart phones and our GPS, we would call that location and ask them for directions. Well, our memories were not jogged and I think I had the bright idea to take it to the airport (for which we had seen several signs on the freeway) because surely there would be a Budget rental office there and if nothing else, they could look in their system and at least point us in the right direction of where to go next. We went to the airport, but for whatever reason we couldn't get through the gates, or something... the details are a little hazy. By this time it was past midnight and we decided to try again in the light of day.
We drove back to our apartment... our apartment that only had street parking (if you just had a minor anxiety attack over the term "street parking," you're probably one of our LA friends) and after driving in circles looking for a spot, we ended up parking the truck in a grocery store parking lot that had signs every fifth spot or so that designated the lot as for CUSTOMERS ONLY! and we were assured that our CAR WILL BE TOWED! We set our alarm clock for 5:00 am and went to retrieve the truck before (we hoped) it got impounded. (Side note: I consider myself to be a good driver. I have never received a moving violation, but by the time we moved from Los Angeles, the amount we had paid in parking tickets was over $1000.)
The heavens took pity on us and our truck was still there in the morning. I can't remember exactly what happened, but Paul was able to get in touch with Budget and we drove to the proper location, though not directly. I do know that we drove in a lot of circles and I silently cursed Paul every time he took a wrong turn. (I was following him in our car and was still a novice with the stick shift.) If I had been able to lift that truck over my head, I would have thrown it from the street into the Budget parking lot and ran from it as fast as I could.
I guess you could say we had a bit of a rocky start to our California journey, but it has only gotten better since then. With some sadness (bless you, Idaho) I have to admit that I have lived in California longer than any other place, and by almost double! This Cinco de Mayo we commemorated the Battle of Puebla and our So Cal anniversary with tacos, churros and a toast to many more happy years in the Golden State.
