Union Station is no more daunting than any other major metropolitan rail system; nonetheless, I had my share of “Midvale School For The Gifted” moments while I attempted to follow signage that was not quite spot on, and fought with ticket machines that were not entirely up to date. A friendly female security guard assisted me upon my beckoning to her that the train I was supposed to be on was not listed on the ticket machine. She walked me through each phase, step by step, until I held in my hand the ticket that matched the time that matched the track that matched the destination: Irvine, not far from Jen, who would be waiting for me after two days apart; I missed my travel agent and our regimented schedule.
Track 8B was littered with all types of individuals and although tired, I attempted some more people watching. The train pulled in (a double decker – now THAT was a novel concept to me) and I found a solo seat against the opposite door. As we embarked, I lost my bearings; the train was pulling back OUT in the direction it came from…it was not continuing in its original direction. I took a moment to breathe, considering that perhaps it just needed to pull in to the station and then would find its way back on track to the south. I checked the pocket schedule I had pulled from the tourist racks as the conductor announced the first stop. All was well. I texted Jen that I was “all aboard” and off I went.
The public transit is neat, clean and quiet – with restrooms…considering MetroLink can actually connect me to Jen, Sean AND Ventura (with a little help from Amtrak), it is, along with the Post Office, going to become another new best friend.
An hour later, after reading all the newspapers I’d been waiting to delve into, we approached Irvine Station, where, just prior to the announcement, Jen called wondering if I was on time/nearby. She would be waiting in the parking lot, and as the doors opened, I stepped into sunny skies once again onto a white concrete plaza. I descended a staircase with the rest of my fellow travelers, who parted from me just as I was able to make out the figure of Jen on a bench across the way. She looked at me with a small degree of wonder; I forgot I was sporting my new threads, and she was duly impressed with Sean’s preliminary makeover. “Cue strut mu--“
--NOT one to fuss, she hurried us into the car, where we spun off to Spectrum Irvine, a combo amusement park with carousel and ferris wheel along with more shops and restaurants. And, I was about to learn: Dave & Busters, where we were about to spend some QT with Jen’s brother Don. (I’ve never been to a Dave & Busters in my life, but I go where my travel agent says.)
Don was due to meet us at 4 PM…and as 4 PM approached, with still no sign of Don, she and I discussed matters of respect when it comes to punctuality. I had already seen Jen’s patience tested with Chris’ tardiness on Monday morning; I’m sure it was insult to injury when it came to a family member. We were just concluding our debate, when Don appeared at the entranceway. He asked if she’d gotten his text, saying he’d be about 10 minutes late. Jen had not checked her phone. It was 9 minutes after 4. And…in we went.
Don educated us on the ins and outs of the D&B point card system, and after the brief tutorial, we were locked and loaded with our swipe cards and found a high top near the end of the bar. After a brief cocktail and some chat, we went off in pursuit of childhood fun on an adult size scale. Jen took her turn at Galactiga, Don went to a shooting range, and I opted for a quick round of Donkey Kong, which I had not endeavored to undertake since 8th grade – and it was evident. Fuckin’ ape.
Jen was making some serious headway with her game, so I let her be and hit one of the coin fountains where you drop a coin at random to knock coins down a level and then into the abyss which ultimately issues you redeemable tickets for the gift shop. My card was not reading properly, so I called for assistance, and a referee clad skater dude set me up with more coins than I’d originally intended (I suppose, to compensate for the delay, but nonetheless ensuring a windfall).
500 tickets later, Jen popped by as I was wrapping up, and we went to find Don, who was shooting deer and bears on some virtual hunting expedition. I couldn’t bring myself to observe further, virtual or not, and as we went back to our table, Jen said, “Go have a smoke, and when you get back, we’ll shoot some zombies; it’s okay to kill them.”
If ever there was a better outlet for passive aggressiveness or projective therapy, Evil Dead III is it. Here Jen and I stood, machine guns hoisted to our shoulders, as we blew apart the freakiest of freaks – piece by wretched piece. Perhaps I was taking matters out on my ex; I will not speak for Jen. Regardless, whatever lay dormant in us was boiling over and we suddenly found ourselves at level eight…a large Bluto sized zombified officer (like Schwartzeneggar with a bad skin condition) was our only nemesis. He carried a club, and knew how to wield it. Despite our incessant reloading, we were both knocked out and the game was over before we could blink. Jen and I stared at each other a moment, breathing heavily. Then we both cheerfully put down our guns, primal instincts buried once again.
After another drink and more conversation (during which I was continually distracted by a bald-headed hot guy who appeared to be a manager making perpetual rounds – what is it with me and the bald men lately??), I left Jen and Don to each other while I redeemed my coupons. I returned with a glittery tattoo of a pair of sunglasses for Jen, just in case she misplaces her current ones (and which happens more than she would like to admit), a kaleidoscope viewer for Don, an artist, so he may always have a fresh perspective on his work, and a glow in the dark keychain for myself. Silly trinkets, but memorable just the same.
But I could not leave well enough alone. I spotted a Claw Grabbing Machine with tacky jewelry in it, and of course, had to have a turn. 3 tries later, I Clawed a ladies’ watch, offering it to Jen, who would, in turn, give it to Don’s daughter. 4 more tries later, and I had a new “Riviera Quartz” silver and black watch for myself….ooooooooh. Don’t mess with The Claw. It is something at which, frankly, I rule.
Our D&B adventure complete, we supped at The Cheesecake Factory (another first for me), window shopped a bit (the candy store with gazillions of types of caramel apples on display drew the siblings into its sweet confection realms), grabbed a coffee to go, and parted company; we would see each other soon enough for Thanksgiving.
The coffee was a weak attempt to keep going, but I think by now I was fairly numb to its effects. On entrance to Jen’s apartment, I dropped my bag, felt an adrenaline drop, and, to Jen’s surprise, went off to bed entirely too soon – even by my own standards.
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