Today We Go To Morro

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October 9th 2013
Published: October 14th 2013
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Danny Writes:

Time to leave LA. Personally I wont miss it one bit, it was my least favourite part of the trip which is unfortunate since, along with Vegas, I was looking forward to it the most. In hindsight I'm not really sure why, although I'm guessing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas probably had something to do with it. I didn't really 'get' LA, it just seemed like a whole lot of fuss about nothing. I'm not particularly the most celebrity obsessed person in the world and so the novelty of seeing "this is where so-and-so overdosed" and "this is where whatshisname got caught engaging in sexual antics" soon wore off and it just seemed like a dodgy area filled with shops selling tourist tack and not a lot really happening; not a lot of substance. Actually there's probably a lot of substance going on in LA, just not the kind I'm referring to.

So off we set. First things first, breakfast. During the previous nights 3 hour drive (which didn't count as an actual drive, meaning I had to sit in the back seat of the Ford for another exceedingly comfortable 3 hour drive) we had encountered a couple of IHOP restaurants, which are sort of like the McDonald's of pancakes, waffles, sausages, and anything else that you could possibly wish for if you were looking to put on 10kg before you've even properly woken up. Unfortunatlely, none of us could remember where any of the IHOPS were from the night before so we drove around Hollywood aimlessly, passing the time by taking it in turns to accept the blame for not noting any locations the day before. This seemed to pay off since we eventually bumped into one right next to some buildng where some famous bloke overdosed. It turns out this was pretty much guarenteed since, after research, it turns out there are at least 10 IHOP restaurants in the surrounding Hollywood area alone. We filled up on sugar and fat and then set sail for Morro Bay.

Upon arriving, we checked into our Travellodge which was a stereotypical upstairs/downstairs motel surrounding a car park. We dumped our stuff and went for a walk down the seafront. Morro Bay is a lot different in comparison to LA. Whereas LA has the smell of shame and vehicle fumes filling the air, Morro Bay has the fresh ocean breeze rolling in. LA has 10 IHOPs, Morro Bay has 10 shops selling fresh fish and live crabs. LA has people dressed as wannabe gangsters roaming the streets trying on forced toughguy personas, Morro Bay has... the same. I guess no where is sacred. At least it was only one person here though, and his toughguy walk was more hilarious than anything. Imagine a one armed nutcracker on steroids and you're not far off. We went for our walk, bought several metric tonnes of taffy from one of the many, many, many taffy shops on the front, none of which anyone has ever overdosed in (although the shopkeep looked pretty close to having a taffy overdose), and headed back to get changed.

In the evening we went out for a meal and a drink, with the goal of getting off out nuts on a medley of seafood and cocktails. As it turns out, it's particularly difficult to find any alcohol in Morro Bay when its not summer season as the place turns into a ghost town at night. One of the bars we moved onto after our meal was so deserted that there wasn't even any staff to be seen, so we ditched that joint and moved onto the next place. Finally, a bar with bar staff. Jackpot. We each ordered our drinks. Tina asked for a margarita and, even though it wasn't on the menu, the bar maid tackled the challenge without breaking a sweat. Impressive. Rob decided not to confuse the poor woman and simply asked for something from the set cocktail menu. "Sorry, none of that in I'm afraid" was her reply, so he just ordered a beer instead. I'm not entirely sure he actually wanted a beer, I think he just panicked and ordered the first thing he saw. Finally, I too ordered some whiskey/orange based drink from the cocktail menu. "Want me to make that with fresh orange rather than marmalade?" she asked. I assumed at this point that she was fairly drink savvy and knew something I didn't so I took her up on her offer, only to end up with what can only be described as a full glass of straight whiskey on the rocks, with a few bits of orange pulp swilling around in the bottom. "Whoa, that is a stiff drink my friend" she exclaimed as she passed me the horrible concoction she had knocked up. Well, thanks for that.

After our drinks we moved on to find a new bar. We soon discovered that the only place left open was full of the local Wickerman-esque population singing karaoke. Needless to say, we left without ordering drinks and headed back to our rooms, again bumping into Morro Bay's very own original gangsta, who seemed to be wandering the streets asking strangers for cigarettes. If I had closed my eyes just for that brief second, with the fresh sea air rolling in, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, and a strange person in a track suit asking us for cigarettes, it was almost like being back at home.

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