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Published: August 5th 2008
Play Misty For Me
Big Leggy. Olympic, World and US Champ Kerri Walsh prepares.Moving house can be a stressful period, especially if it’s just you and old Jack Jones. It’s generally recognized as being up there with getting married and changing jobs as life's top three most unsettling experiences and so it would perhaps have been only half a surprise when I finally relocated to the other side of the world if all my hair had started falling out and I’d come out in a series of boils, carbuncles, rashes and spots. The fact that fortunately it hasn't and I didn’t, although I have to say the constant sunshine is aiding my transition into a silver fox quicker than I’d have preferred, has been mainly down to big bad Baz and his family being out here.
For the past two months Phil and I have done everything together. Well almost everything. We've driven to and from work together, gone to the gym, the beach and on bike rides together, gone shopping and out drinking together, occasionally with a bit more gusto than either expected or intended and even alternated preparing evening meals before transporting them to one or the other's apartments to dine together,
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Lack of waves at the US Open Surf Comp' meant plenty of opportunity for a rest. a bit like an alternative meals on wheels for an alternative odd couple. I’m sure some of the neighbours not to mention our colleagues must be talking ! In addition to being joined at the hip his broken leg has seen to it that I've spent my first two months over here acting as his very own personal Sherpa, carrying bags, opening doors etc etc. and I never thought that the simple task of going shopping for groceries would fill me with dread in the way it has done, simply at the thought of carrying all those brown paper bags overladen with two household's weekly food supply up all those bleeding stairs.
Phil's leg has been giving cause for concern recently in that the pain and swelling are, if anything, worse than in his first week of rehab and yesterday’s enforced visit to the doc revealed the reason to be that one of the screws holding him all together had snapped and is now floating around aimlessly inside his leg . A case for a law suit if ever I saw one as well as dispelling any notions I was beginning to entertain that he was starting to take
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Dragons itching to go days before the tournament. my generosity a bit too far. Ten weeks on from his accident and he is still walking like Long John Silver, the only difference being that instead of having a neatly carved stick emanating from his knee joint he has what looks like a 300 year old oak that has simply been stripped of it’s bark, branches and leaves. Last week we hit 24mph on the beach bike track with him head down to the fore and I swear I was simply coasting in his ankles slip stream !
On the Saturday afternoon we attended the Belmont Athletic Clubs (our gym) thirtieth birthday party between 5.30 and 9.30pm mainly on the promise of free beer and food. As it transpired it was only two glasses of free beer each but there was grub and we had a laugh meeting people who in the gym environment we would never have dreamed of speaking to, mainly because we both find gym's places for getting in and out of, not for sitting around making idle chit chat in. No mention was made of dress code, one probably didn't exist and we arrived in our normal tee and shorts attire to find everyone
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Finalist April Ross gets interviewed for TV. Beats Des Lynam any day of the week. dressed in almost formal evening wear but still had a good evening.
On Wednesday (23rd) Phil selfishly left to visit the San Francisco office for a couple of days leaving me to fend for myself. Of course that wasn’t a problem but it did hit home how much harder the move could and would have been if he hadn’t been here to guide me in the ways of this friendly, patriotic yet often irritating Nation. Traditions, customs and ways of existing out here would have had to have been learnt more by trial and error than by any other means had I not had him to quiz and inform and I’m absolutely certain I’d have racked up a wallet full of driving tickets before the first two months were up, not to mention suffered a certain degree of homesickness which thankfully has failed to materialize in any way, shape or form.
The local rag, The Gazette, last week informed us that the latest changes afoot to an already strict legend of laws and regulations governing the City are that the Long Beach Police Department are to allot additional resources of an already over populated workforce to attempting to
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Everything was set but the waves never showed. crack down on the wave of heinous and unspeakable crimes currently sweeping through the City, jay walking and cycling on pavements. If their analysing of social problem areas requiring attention are correct then I reckon I must carry the title of Public Enemy Number One and as such am just waiting for my mug shot to start appearing on 'Wanted Dead or Alive' posters plastered to lamp posts across the town. In a city where I read of at least one shooting a each week I'd perhaps call this a misuse of public funds but then again what do I know.
With Phil in SF on the the following evening (23rd) I ventured down to Marina Stadium to meet Lisa, Manchester Mark and Monica for the 'Party in the Park'. It was the normal scenario, jolly brass band entertainment for the wine swilling deck chaired public and as the sun went down and the evening came to a premature and unwelcome end we were joined by Laura, one of Lisa's school mum friends who I'd met a couple of times before, most recently at Junior Lifeguards Parents Day. Laura is a bundle of chatter and energy at the best
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Amateur surfers off Huntington Pier of times but this evening, with hubby Jim having taken the kids camping she'd been further assisted by couple of glasses of something or other. A large Winnebago was parked up nearby and was attracting a large group of revellers and when I commented how ever since I'd seen 'Dusk Til Dawn' I'd always wanted to take a road trip in one Laura said she knew the owner, old Norm, and that she would get me a guided tour.
When we reached the group it became obvious she did know Norm, a friendly guy in his sixties with a large, silver walrus moustache, but by nothing other than name because he quite obviously had absolutely not the foggiest idea who she was. The over sized camper van, which he'd driven to the park from his house just five minutes away was quite obviously his pride and joy and consequently he seemed overjoyed when she expressed our admiration for it, so much so that he invited us to hop on board and take a look around.
It was all I'd hoped it would be. Large TV and leather seating in the lounge area immediately behind the 360 degree drivers
seat leading through a narrowed wardrobe storage area to the master bedroom at the rear filled with a beatifully presented queen sized bed. It was all too much for Laura who ran and threw herself headlong through the bedroom doors and spreadeagled herself on the cloud like quillt and cushions, smacking her bum in the process as she landed face down on the bed. I was still laughing when I heard a voice behind.
"Excuse me, who are you"?
I turned to be greeted by two women, neither of whom looked particularily thrilled and both of whom looked like they'd just walked off the set off Dynasty wearing full their face paint even for a night at the park. The one doing the talking it quickly transpired was Norm's glamorous wife who must have been twenty years his junior and who was non too pleased that we'd been given free rein to explore 'her' home. Thinking back I can't say that I blame her either and after asking a couple of painfully embarrassing questions about the van we managed to escape giggling into the night.
It seems there is always something going on somewhere around these parts.
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California Girls, Marisa and friends with their freebie glasses at 'Party In The Park' The previous Sunday we’d loaded the bikes into the Jeep causing more untold damage to the coachwork in the process and headed down To Huntington Beach were the US Open Surf Championships were in progress. The lovely seaside town, surf capital of southern California was awash with people but unfortunately the normal more than ample waves forgot to turn up making it a bit similar to turning up to watch the FA Cup Final and having the referee forget to take the ball out. The competitors we witnessed from the end of the huge pier were frustratingly restricted to sucking every last painful inch out of the almost non existent small surf. Maybe next year they should move to Hawaii.
In California it is impossible to get away from exercise and physical exertion and the following weekend there were two local happenings that I thought might be interesting and wanted to see. Throughout the week I’d noticed temporary grandstands being erected on the beach close to downtown and investigations had revealed that between Thursday and Sunday the Association of Volleyball Professionals Tour (AVP) was in town for The Long Beach Open. If someone mentions beach volleyball to me I
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Cheeky. Laura makes herself at home at Norm's Place. automatically think of scantily clad muscle bound bodies throwing themselves around in the sand with abandon and without a care for either their well being or their modesty, and that’s just the men !
Late on Saturday afternoon en route to Shoreline Village for lunch and liquid refreshment we passed the AVP site to find that things were wrapping up for the day. The competition had been running since Thursday and all that was left for the Sunday was the womens Semi Finals and the Final which were to be broadcast live on national television. We managed to blag a couple of tickets for finals day from a hip hop radio station that was still broadcasting live on air from a tent on the sand who insisted that all we did in return was pose for a photgraph to be posted on their web site under the heading of something along the lines of 'Brits get tickets for finals courtesy of ....' and vowed to return the following day.
As we only had two tickets it was fortunate that Olivia and Marisa expressed a preference for spending a gorgeous, cloudless Sunday sat in front of the TV playing
with their new Wii so around eleven Phil and I saddled up and headed north. There was a real carnival atmosphere as we wandered the many corporate stalls offering freebie after freebie and within half an hour and with a belly half full of free samples of Merlot, Zinfandel and Cabernet I was carrying a large carrier bag full of t shirts, posters, water bottles, stickers and sun creams feeling as though I'd just walked off the set of Crackerjack. All that was missing was the pencil. The Semi Finals of the women’s competition had just finished and with the Final not scheduled until 1pm we decided to hang around.
A couple of girls were walking around handing out posters of Bethany Hamilton and I took one.
“Bethany who?” I hear you ask, which was exactly my thought.
Bethany it transpires is an eighteen year old surfer from Hawaii who achieved national celebrity status simply because at the age of thirteen she had her left arm ripped from it’s socket at the shoulder by a disgruntled tiger shark and within four weeks was back on a board learning all over again from scratch, a touching story of
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Reservoir Dogs. Neighbours Bachelor Party (Stag Do). courage that perfectly epitomises the American Dream and that guaranteed her to win the hearts of the nation. Amazingly, despite her handicap she rose through the professional ranks to her current status as being recognized as one of the world’s top women surfers not to mention a national B list celebrity with a book, a video documentary and several appearances on The Oprah Show under her belt, a surefire sign of having made it.
I noticed a queue snaking across the sand and realised that at the head of it was Bethany herself, all tanned and natural platinum blonde hair in person signing the posters for her adoring public. For some reason I cannot explain I wanted her to sign mine, why I have no idea but the queue was too big to even contemplate and half an hour later, after more aimless wandering and wine sampling we passed again to find it had shrunk to just seven or eight people. I joined on the end.
A tall guy in his mid twenties and a girl, both dressed in identical black polo shirts which told me they were either something to do with the event organisers or clones
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The girls from Radio Jack FM, 24/7 R'n'R. and which obviously increased their sense of self importance tenfold were in front of me and when they noticed me they turned.
"Sorry sir, the lines over” he announced
Politely I asked him what he meant.
“Sorry sir, the lines over” he repeated “This is the end of the line, this is the last signing”
I looked around and saw there was no one else even interested in joining me at the end of the queue and explained too him again in very polite terms that there was only me, that one more signature wouldn’t hurt Bethany’s schedule nor for that matter her arm, that it would only take her a couple of seconds and that she’d make an old Englishman very happy.
I was expecting that to be enough to convince them to step aside and usher me through but he was having none of it.
“Sorry sir, the lines over” he repeated expressionless as the girl at his side nodded in agreement.
Bethany was just feet away smiling a big SoCal smile and happily signing her name for those who’d joined the queue just seconds before me. She could obviously hear
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And the hip hop guys who gave us our tickets. The guy being interviewed is a freshman college footballer. the conversation I was having, the shark had taken her arm but not her ears and I half expected her to interject along the lines of “Okay guys, it’ll be no problem, let him through, I can manage one more”. I’m sure Steven Gerrard or Wayne Rooney would have but sweet little Bethany didn’t.
Under the canopy with her was an older woman, maybe her manager or even her mother and in the absence of getting a positive response from Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee I caught her eye and raised my voice in search of the sympathy vote. Getting Bethany's signature, even though it would probably have ended up in the bin as opposed to on my bedroom wall had become a challenge.
Adopting the raised shoulder, upturned palms head to one side pose I spoke, “Aw c’mon, there’s only me here. One more won’t hurt will it ?”
I really expected an over ruling of the over zealous guards but instead all I got was “Sorry sir, that’s it, Bethany is tired and she has to get ready for the media”.
Half an hour earlier I’d had no idea who she was but now
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Volleyballer Angie Akers. the gauntlet had been well and truly thrown down. As she signed her name for the last person in the queue I manouevered myself around the two stooges like Jonny Wilkinson on a jinking dash for the line and presented myself in front of her, poster held in outstretched arms.
“Bethany, can you just sign one more please, make it to Matt. Please?”
At eighteen she would have just left school and she was obviously having trouble functioning in an disciplinarian free world where people had obviously neglected to tell her she was now free to make up her own mind. Afraid to speak up against her mentor her reply left me equally crushed and dumbstruck, “I’m sorry, I can’t. Here” she replied and at the same time handed me a creased and crumpled pre signed poster. I turned defeated muttering how I already had one of them, how she’d broken my heart and how I would never be able to forgive her and stumbled back to a patiently waiting Phil.
It was only when we finally took a seat in the makeshift stadium that I realized what a big event this was. National Televison were covering
the finals day and the stage constructed within the arena was hosting a pre match routine by all girl band The Beach Girlz, five sickly sweet SoCal teen’s apparently already well on the way to replacing Britney as the darlings of America. Goodness knows why.
We discovered the final was to be contested by yet more national heroines, one of the pairings consisting of six foot three Kerri Walsh and her long time partner, in volleyball that is not life, local girl Misty May Traenor. Misty May, whose name suggests she’d be more at home on the set of a porn shoot than on a volleyball pitch has been at the top of the sport for several years and these two are current Olympic, World and US Champions, unbeaten for 102 matches and destined for Beijing as soon as this competition was over, basically the world’s elite. Look out for them.
The atmosphere was as it is for anything sporty in America, over the top. The players emerged into the arena one by one as their names were called dancing and grooving to the loud music booming out of the pa as the crowd, Phil and I included,
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April Ross smashes in the semi final. frantically smacked yellow inflatable tubes together producing a deafening cacophony of noise. The obligatory national anthem, as it had at the Galaxy match again saw everybody face the stars and stripes with hands on heart as one of The Beach Girlz sang the Star Spangled Banner solo and then the fun began. Phil had to leave after one set but I was enjoying myself so much I stayed on to watch Kerri and Misty win game number one hundred and three and then headed straight over to Marine Stadium to experience the 12th Long Beach Dragon Boat Tournament which saw teams from all over the States and several from overseas competing at the Marine Stadium.
It was a bit like being transported direct to Beijing itself as it seemed half of America's Chinese community had gathered together but it was good fun and I sat for fifteen minutes as a silent and mystical Chinese man wearing a lamp shade transformed a lump of modelling clay into a bust of my head complete with six o'clock shadow courtesy of a tooth brush and the weekend ended with one of Lisa's homemade chilli's and a viewing of the excellent 'There Will
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Phil with the Cuerva Tequila gals Be Blood'.
Tuesday morning was the earthquake and when I arrived home I found a couple of picture frames and books lying haphazardly on the floor. The health and safety question time we were due have from the CEO was cancelled until Thursday, no doubt so that an extra page could be added to the H & S Manual reclassifying what they considered emergencies and for the remainder of the week e mails were received from various sources stating 'What to Do in Event of an Earthquake', nothing like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted. That said, during the moments immediately after the quake it was quite apparent that the no one knew exactly what the best practice to increase chances of survival actually are. As it happens advice is to get under something sturdy such as a table if you're inside or away from walls, glass or power cables if out. Just as well we now know because forecasters say the big one will hit in the next thirty years.
One of the things to confirm you are settling in following a house/country move is opening your mail box to find a handful of
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Bethany Hamilton and her heartless minder. mail addressed to you in person, not junk mail or to the flat's previous occupant. Admittedly in my case they have always been bills or official documents but they still make me feel at home and on Friday morning I opened the box to find just one, from Cigna Healthcare. I opened it sitting in my newly moved into office and was hit with a bill, even after their fifty per cent had been deducted, for over five hundred dollars for my tooth crown. I hope come Wednesday when I go to get the 'real' one fitted it sticks or else I could soon be transformed into a toothless gurning Steptoe look a like.
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