The Credits of the Last Feature

The last few years were tough.

2006 - Everything exploded. Shock and awe.
2007 - Life was a smoking ball of shit. Lots of substances abused, therapy, and poor, poor decisions.
2008 - Figuring out that alone is better.
2009 - Figuring out that alone isn't necessarily better than being with the right one.

I never went anywhere in that time. Not for fun, anyway. Work flung me to and fro, and I carried out a lot of mercy missions and weekend road trips, but never really getting off "the island". Then the planets lined up and time and money clicked together just so, and I said, I'm taking the plunge. Out to Cali, doing the southward drive with the top down and nobody can stop me.

Nagging me at the back of my mind while coalescing this plan was the subtle knowledge that if I didn't do it right now, I'd NEVER do it. I'd never have this opportunity again.

So I broke a heart or two and told a few people vying for the job that I was going and going without them and that life is tough, but I had to live for me, etc. And I left. Partied like a rock star in San Fransisco for three days, then got in the convertible and drove south - with the top down, as I promised myself. Great music blaring, hairpin turns around cliffs that no sane person has the right to negotiate. Hit Los Angeles a few days later, reuniting with many old friends, partying like a movie star in the hills, taking in museum spectacles, and generally having a great time of it.

I hopped a train along the coast to San Diego, rode in first class drinking "Arrogant Bastard Ale" all the way. Deposited myself and my belongings in a hotel room that nobody short of Louis XIV (the king, not the band) has the right to rest his bones in and reflected on how glad I was that I did this right then and there.

Would you believe that it was not three hours later that she literally walked out of the night and into my lap?

Someone even has a picture of it somewhere. Too bad it's nobody we know.