During our trip to Southern California I realized that it’s not just Disneyland that is a wonderland, separate and distinct from the rest of the world, but most of Southern California. We pulled up to a stoplight in sporting the minivan complete with roof rack when seven Lamborghinis and one Ferrari pulled up kitty corner to me. I was thinking to myself, “boy I bet that guy feels stupid.” Ferrari is the Saturday car. Lamborghinis are for Sunday. Everyone knows that. As proof I saw several more Lamborghinis on the road but all the Ferraris I saw were parked. Driving down the Pacific Coast highway we passed a Mclaren dealership, a Ferrari dealership, a Tesla dealership, a Porsche dealership, and Aston Martin and several places that had clusters of various kinds of exotic cars for which if you don’t show up in a started exotic car (Ferrari, Lamborghini, Porsche) not only will the salesman not speak to you, but they will call the cops.
I cut off a Bentley and felt better.
One place where the wonderland effect falls apart is the beaches. The people there don’t look anything like all the shows on TV unless you count LA Ink. A lot of people look like that.
Our trip to the beach started out with all the wonder of a child from the high mountain desert experiencing the joy of playing in the ocean for the first time in years and ended with Satan escaping from hell. Devin ran into the water, played in the sand and had a great time.
And then he didn’t.
Turns out that the beach is a lot of fun until sand enters your private areas. Devin cursed the sand and sea and let us know how much he hated the beach.
The wonder breaks down quickly. As we drove away from the Sunset and back into the LA traffic I turned to Callie and said, “I think we need a vacation.”