Coffee was on the agenda; I wasn’t particularly hungry, but caffeine was definitely in order. Jen, who had been receiving texted travel updates from me since 2 AM her time, found herself in similar straints, longing for a latte. We jettisoned a few highways to her darling apartment with a white picket fence and front yard, unloaded the luggage and rested a moment. I chuckled with irony when I observed the name of the street on which her apartment sits: “Broadway.” Only in California.
Her favorite coffee shop, Buon Giorno in Costa Mesa, a short walk from her place, (the walk was also warranted to stretch my cramped-up legs) has an authentic old-world feel to it; rustic colors with pretty tiles and an outdoor patio with umbrella tables. A bright blue-eyed, dark curly-haired barrista greeted us and took my order for coffee in an oversized porcelain mug, an everything-bagel toasted with cream cheese and Jen’s latte. As we made our way to the patio, I could not help but comment to her how “easy on the eyes” he was. I was beginning to like this. She rolled her eyes, as only she can, and smirked at my shamelessness. Nonetheless, she nodded in agreement.
Jen has been working on her “To do” list for this visit for some time now (although I’ve never read it, I’ve already seen her taking copious notes as she adds to and checkmarks items). Each excursion will hold some meaning, I’m sure, whether it be the “must see,” “must do,” or “must learn.” I’m in good hands with Jen. In order to get a quick lay of the land in her neighborhood, she wanted to show me the South
Orange Performing Arts Center, Southwest Plaza and Metro Point…but before that (and here there was much emphasis): my flip flops had to go; that’s right, my oh-so impractical, two dollar Old Navy bright blue flip flops. First shopping excursion: The Surf Shop, to get a pair of industrial strength, arch supporting, thick-soled, basic black (goes with everything) thongs.
My new spats got a good breaking in with a LOT of walking around, window shopping and dodging the natives who know where they’re going. Jen was quick to anticipate a bad turn by me as she would tug my elbow or guide my shoulder in the proper direction we were heading. We grabbed some Soul Food at Memphis, where I was introduced to the unusual flavor of fried spinach. The restaurant (like many places here, I’m learning) features eclectic art from a variety of artists in many mediums. Managing to masticate a maddening tower of meatloaf, we met up with Jen’s good friend, Dean, on his last night before heading off to Hawaii for the holiday (I now realize that Hawaii is, from this geographic stance, not so far away). Determined to stay awake in order to adjust my body clock, we opted for the oddball comedy Zack And Miri Make A Porno. Seems oddball was the order of the day when, as Dean and I were in line for popcorn, a woman of some stature (or was it her hair) barreled in front of us to inform us that she was cutting in line cause some guy had done the same to her…followed shortly by her son, pleading with her to “get inside mom, the popcorn’s inside already.” Clearly mom forgot to take her meds, and some young son has a bestseller true life novel budding inside him…or at least the movie rights.
The movie was fun, and interestingly held my attention without any hint of a yawn. When the final credits rolled, my adrenaline dropped. It was time to go to bed.
Parting company with Dean and wishing him safe voyage, we retired to Jen’s apartment, where, upon hitting the pillow, I went quickly and quietly into a very deep and restful night’s sleep.
Well, maybe not quietly. I do, after all, …snore.
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1 comment:
Yes, but you don't snore very loudly. :-)
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