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Published: July 18th 2005
Parachute?
Tris Models his hot new grundies at Ross: Dress For LessIs It Hot, Or Is It Just The Peyote?
Previously, on the O.C.....errr, blog:
- 4 desperadoes take Los Angeles hostage for cheap coronas.
- Johnny Depp quits the acting business to focus on the management of his club after an anonymous blogster raises hell.
- Collingwood lose....again.
- Running out of gas in Nowhere, California nearly nixes the whole trip, but our plucky favourites pull through.
In tonight's episode:
- Some dodgy mexican floors our hero, only to have him return to top form for Sin City.
- Rogue spaniard Carlos Sanchez departs for Oz.
- Record heat in Las Vegas troubles the steed, but her noble spirit ensures safe passage.
Right, enough bullshit. Last time i wrote we were on our way to Ventura/Santa Monica Beach, so let me take it from there. Taking the 20 minute drive (in LA traffic, 4 minutes anywhere else) down to Santa Monica, we proceeded to secure free parking in the local mall and go exploring. Santa Monica main street is basically a classy version of Rundle Mall, with actual stores, instead of holes in the wall selling Nokia phone covers (who still owns an 8210, honestly). Checking
Brad: Future Paparazzo?
Brad catches Tris unawares at Abercrombie and Fitch out various favourites such as Hot Topic, Abercrombie, Old Navy and Urban Outfitters passed the time in pleasant air-conditioned-conditions. At 6pm we met Chris's cousin Melinda, more famously known as the nanny/minder in "The Osbournes" (SHAROOOOOON!!!!!) She, husband Steve and tyke Lucas made for interesting dinner conversation, being that they count such luminaries as (obviously) The Osbournes, Good Charlotte, Adam Sandler and Blink 182 as friends. Steve promised to hook us up with free tickets to Ozzfest and Warped when we're back east, so he made 3 instant friends for life, not to mention one jealous bastard in Carlos, whose flight was due to leave in 3 days. Eating at a British Pub made for some familiar food, many of us opting for Roast of the Day or Shepherd's Pie. Washing it all down with a pint of Newcy Brown, we ventured down to Ventura Beach, home of Muscle Beach and some of the looniest bastards since Mel Blanc lent his voice to Warners. Ending the night with a stroll down Melrose and a few drinks in the party lounge at the hostel completes July 10th.
July 11th saw more driving, taking the coastal road from LA down to
Fuck-Off Margs
Tris demonstrates his co-ordination as he cannonballs another gigantic Margharita. Carlos' friend Kat looks on with amusement. San Diego (it means "whale vagina" in German, god bless Will Ferrel) passing through....wait for it.....Newport Beach, home to the world's favourite spoilt little shits. Not seeing Ryan, Marissa, Seth or Summer put a damper on the day, but we pressed on, finding ourselves in sunny San Diego, or more accurately, Pacific Beach, a fucking sweet place outside of downtown where it seems everyone skates or rides a low-rider bicycle. Our hostel of choice being completely booked out, we checked into a Days Inn, a pleasant enough motel a small bus-ride out of PB. That night we hit the piss hard, having a few beers at the "Australian Pub" that scandalously had run out of Coopers, moving on to half price Margs at "Gringos" before heading back to the Aussie Pub for more beers and pool. I'm not sure if it was the dodgy burrito or the 2 gigantic Margharitas that I cannonballed, but I was soon cuddling my porcelain friend, much the worse for wear. Passing out on the floor concludes July 11.
July 12th found me feeling very sorry for myself. I'd like to establish that I feel it was the dodgy mexican from the night before,
Da Krew
The Crew at Gringo's, L to R: Tris, Kat, Chris, Carlos and Brad. Carlos looks a bit peeved. Silly Carlos. but whatever the reason, I was sick as a dog that day, and had to pass up the Touristy delights of Tijuana, Mexico, home to cut-price ponchos and Mexican Dresses that go UP in price (see: My Dad). Taking this day off got me back on my feet, the combination of Ron Burgundy on HBO and other quality programming restoring my strength. Carlos called to say goodbye, me being ill and the lads still down Mexico way wouldn't allow us all to catch up again. He (and his kitty money) will be greatly missed! After a few hours of fearing the boys on the wrong end of the Mexican Police, they returned full of stories of a top time. Instantly regretting the burrito from the night before (BURRITO DAMMIT!!!!), I turned in to see the end of the day.
The morning of July 13th beamed brightly, I was back to (nearly) full strength and the anticipation of Vegas was running at fever pitch. Heading to the nearby Juice Bar to abuse their internet, we booked a room for two nights at the Sahara Hotel Casino. At 40 bucks a night, the combination of value and on-strip location won this
Chris and his Lay-dizzles
For those that don't know, in Vegas they force ads for hookahs onto you. Chris seemed happy to receive them! particular Pub our custom. Piling in the car once more, we set off for Vegas by way of Corona, California, hoping to call in on "Famous Stars and Straps," the store owned by none other than Travis Barker of Blink 182 and Transplants fame. If finding the place wasn't hard enough, finding it shut half an hour early set tempers flaring, and comments from "Travis is a fucking wanker" to "Famous Stars and Straps can eat my ass" were thrown around willy-nilly. Eventually cooler heads prevailed, and we set out once more on I-15 towards Sin City: Las Vegas. Shortly after setting out from Corona, our steed began to feel ill, and needed to rest on the side of the highway. In other words, our fucking car broke down in the middle of fucking nowhere with the temperature pushing 120 degrees farenheit (convert it yourself you lazy pricks)!!! Not at all cool, but giving her a short break seemed to do the trick, and again we hit the road. Of course, not 30 minutes later, steed broke down again, and we scratched racked our non-mechanically minded-minds to think of the reason. Coming up short, we again gave her a short
rest, and again, predictably, all seemed well. After 2 more breakdowns, we lobbed into Vegas abour 3 or 4 hours later than expected. The car seemed to run much better at night, so we assume it has something to do with some component, overhearing, cooling down, rinsing and repeating. Anyhoo, after driving the length of the strip and checking into our Hotel, we immediately set out in search of sustenace, the desert heat and long day combining to make us hallucinate various restaurants, including a Denny's that only served salad, a 24 hour food court that happened to be shut and an all night Buffet that had run out of food. (Note, all those things actually happened, you can't make this shit up) Eventually finding aNOTHER denny's seemingly 4 or 5 miles up the strip, we finally got the beverages our bodies were screaming for. Curiously, Vegas seemed a little off this wednesday night, and so we returned to our room for some R&R, banking on a big day the next.
July 14th saw record heat hit Vegas, apparently the mercury hit 125 degrees farenheit. This I will convert: 52 degrees celsius!!! Unbelievable. What's more unbelievable is that we
Yoda Gets Lucky
Yoda gets some play from two hot biatches. Errr, Me and Chris. spent the day by the pool telling ourselves that it was only the glare that made it seem hot. We had lunch at the Sahara buffet, a HUUUGE room offering 6 serving stations and an absolute SHITEload of food. Having both lost and gained approximately 15 kilos through sweat whilst poolside and buffeting, we headed out that night in search of 2 Vegas certainties: Gambling and cheap booze. Sidetracked by the awesome Rollercoaster at New York New York, we eventually found ourselves at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino, made famous in (I promise this is the last reference) the classic O.C. episode where Seth and Summer's misunderstanding made for hilarious hijinks. Settling in at the tables, we proceeded to play quite successfully at roulette and blackjack, playing for well over a couple of hours, enjoying a constant flow of free piss the entire time. It turns out that if you're gambling in Las Vegas, you're entitled to as much free piss as you can sink. This, it turns out, is quite a lot, and we eventually headed back to the Sahara, up a few bucks and feeling quite merry.
Our sojourn at the Sahara over, we booked a
Tris and his ride.
Not seen: The peyote taken just before this photo was taken, causing me to hallucinate this photo. room at Circus Circus for the night of the 15th. Room-rates in Vegas at least double over the weekend, so our initial bargain price of 40 bucks for Wednesday/Thurdsday ballooned to over 80 for friday. Checking out of the Sahara and driving thr 50 metres up the strip to Circus Circus, we were confronted with hundreds of screaming kids and parents. I waited to mind the bags while Chris and Brad checked in. I knew we were in strife when at approx 1:30, Chris came up and told me to go help Brad, there was some kind of problem. Apparently our reservation through Hotels.com had yet to reach the hotel. After calling them twice and receiving promises that the paperwork was being faxed through this very instant, 4:00 found us no closer to having a place to stay that night, so we checked our bags at the bell desk and hit the Circus Circus buffet, yet another fuck-off buffet offering more choices than you can poke a fork at. Feeling physically ill, we went back to check-in and discovered our reservation in fact DID exist, a most gratifying feeling. We got settled and set out, determined to visit Vegas's famous
Gangsta
Tris Gangsta leans on his new Low Rider. The peyote had not yet worn off. landmarks and see all the free shows. First up was treasure island, and the Sirens of TI show. It was entertaining, but I felt quite lame. Pretty slick though, and the peons (!) of vegas lapped it up, my uncertainty notwithstanding. Next up we checked out the Venetian and their interpretation of Venice (much cleaner than the real thing I'm told, and a lot less bird shit). After that was the Mirage, their famed "White Tigers" turned out to be nothing more than some Orange inferior!! After he pointed out that It ain't easy being green....errr, orange, we gave him the benefit and continuted on our way. Next up was Caesar's Palace, possibly the largest single building in the history of mankind. IT. IS. MASSIVE. We saw the famour forum shoppes (the ceiling at the Venitian is way better), the Casino, the museum, it, quite simply, is a fuck-off casino. Note to Paul and Gary: Put your bets on, no dice. Sorry lads!! After Caesar's came the Bellagio and their Water Show, made famous by Ocean's 11. This was easily the highlight of the night, it was mighty impressive. After scoping the MGM Grand, Excalibur, Luxor and Madalay Bay, it
was time to head back to Circus Circus for some high stakes (read: $5 a hand) gambling and free booze. My form this night was not as impressive, and I ended up down about 20 bucks. Not willing to give Circus Circus any more cash after the debacle at check-in (not their fault, in fact they were very nice about it) I decided to turn in.
July 16th saw another day of driving....in between the damn car doing its shitfit every so often. We were headed to Page, Arizona, the site of 1 year of my life and home to many friends and family....most of whom would be conveniently out of town this weekend.....bastards. Anyhoo, we rocked up into Page at around 1:30, and not wanting to wake my Aunty Jan, instead paid a visit to my good mate Chad Hunter, whose family was not only still up, but keen for a couple of beers and a chinwag. After catching up on who's marrying who and who's carrying who's baby, we turned in around 2. Pretty quiet day really.
The combination of driving, the heat and the fecking car being an arsehole saw us savouring the opportunity to
Tris
No point to this photo really. I just look silly in it. sleep in on the morning of the 17th, our initial plans of waking up early and seeing some of the sites turned into a 1:30 emergance, and after a late breakfast of pancakes and fruit salad (Cheers Mrs H, top stuff), I dropped the boys off at the lake and caught up with some old friends, the Burkes. Taking them up on their offer of hospitality and a home-cooked meal, tonight we headed out with Chad to enjoy the pinnacle of Page night life: The Bowling Alley. In all honesty, it was a pretty fun night, having a few (cheap!!) beers and bowling a couple frames, playing darts and shooting pool. I should also mention that I managed to see another old friend Kristen Boruff working at the dam. Kristen, I lost your phone number, I'm so sorry I didn't call you up!!
Basically, that brings you up to date. It's now 2:46 and I'm pretty bushed. Note to Searley: any more comments about the infrequence of blog updates will get you banned. BANNED!!!
Love to all,
-Tris
PS: Fuck, that's a long blog entry right there
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Karla
non-member comment
Hey Tristan this travel journal is great it is great to hear you are all having a blast and by the sounds of it drinking far to much but ohh well keep having fun and update the journal it is a great idea!! Say hi to Chris for me, Karla