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Published: June 13th 2009
Monday 11th May to Friday 22nd May, 2009 Relaxation for me has become as elusive as the holy grail, that feeling having developed over the last twelve months or so to the extent that I appear to have somehow unwittingly acquired a profound inability to sit down and chill. Heck, even committing time to something as simple and enjoyable as watching a movie has become a quandry.
I can vividly recall from childhood how my father, still in his working uniform which over the course of time would seep a musty, oily fragrance into the living room would settle down post dinner, legs crossed into his favourite chair armed only with a copy of the daily newspaper and within minutes drift into a deep sleep that not even three screaming kids nor a blaring televison could disturb. I often wish I could do the same, I no doubt could if I really put my mind to it but the nagging feeling always exists that there may be something being missed or that should be being done which puts an end to the idea immediately.
Perhaps if I lived in the middle of a desert and there was literally
nothing to do I’d find relaxing a little more straightforward. However I don’t and with the weekend following the Birthday Palooza once again highlighting the wide ranging variety of things available to do within a relatively short distance of Long Beach for the whole weekend I once again never actually found myself sitting down at home to relax.
With Phil away at Mammoth for the weekend it was left to me to entertain myself and so on Saturday morning in search of something completely different I headed out to Chino Hills Air Show, an annual exhibition of predominantly world war two aircraft and a trip down memory lane to my childhood days, not spent during WWII I hasten to add when such machines, largely due to the fantasy creating powers of Airfix Model kits and the influence of my father and brother were high on my list of interests.
The town of Chino Hills, home of the small airport cum museum hosting the show is situated forty five minutes drive inland from Long Beach and despite possessing more than it’s fair share of characterless breezeblock and corrugated steel industrial unit's is a town known first and foremost for
it's dairy farming thus ensuring that it bears one striking similarity to my home county of Cheshire. Both are constantly enveloped by the wonderful nostril flaring odour of cow shit meaning and as I drove through the City limits the smell allied to the sight of tens of dozens of black and white fresians huddled together in groups, tales swishing to keep the flies at bay, turned my thoughts immediately to home.
I like cows a lot, especially the horizontally laid back temperament they exude, the rhythmic swish of the tail that keeps perfect metronomic timing with the lethargic side to side movement of their forever cud chewing jaw line and which instills an almost hypnotic calmness. I could watch them for hours and that is even before winding down the window and sucking in the wonderful aroma that emanates from their rectal regions. Whilst I appreciate it may seem a little odd to have a fondness for the smell of excreta in any way or form I'm afraid I have to admit that I do actually find the cow variety almost perversely pleasant.
The day started eventfully enough. Despite Long Beach spending the day under a thick
blanket of grey cloud just two miles inland saw the sky turn a deep blue and the afternoon swelteringly hot, a point which no doubt had an effect on the elderly man who keeled over Del Boy in the Wine Bar style before my very eyes within five minutes of my arrival.
I was stood just a few feet away from him although too many to do anything about it when I noticed he was gently swaying off vertical and watched in what seemed to be slow motion as he teetered an inch too far and in the manner of a felled oak toppled to the ground. In an instant he was pounced upon by assorted nearby members of the crowd, like jackals on a wounded wildebeest who swarmed around him, effectively eradicating what precious little fresh air supply was available and who took it in turns to press two or three fingers of their hands against various parts of his anatomy, an action one can only presume was done in a bid to detect a pulse.
It seemed like an age before the realisation dawned on the pack that not one of them actually had a clue
12 Months and Counting..
Charlie Drake and the little people.what the hell they were doing and before some bright spark finally cried out "Is there a doctor anywhere". Knowing there was very little I could add to help I got the picture and moved on before the medics arrived musing the old adage about never knowing when your time is going to come. I do hope the poor old bugger was okay.
I spent the whole of the afternoon in the hot and dusty field watching and listening to an array of WWII aircraft pass by and, with equal interest, observing the aeronautical equivalents of that fascinating species the train spotter. It was people watching at it’s best.
I say listening because the sound that emanated from the flying machines was nothing short of beautiful, an initial coughing and spluttering upon ignition similar to random shotgun fire, only to be expected given the age of the engines, followed a split second later by the appearance of clouds of dense blue grey smoke and then a volume increasing ground shaking roar. I thought of dad and brother and wished they were there.
After a Saturday night barbeque hosted by Dan and Lisa in honour of my birthday
I saddled up on Sunday morning and headed downtown. Posters around town had warned of the impending ‘Long Beach Gay Pride’, America's second largest gathering of similar minded 'Queer as' folk and I was off to observe.
I find the title ‘Gay Pride’ confusing not to mention somewhat irritating. Quite why anyone finds it necessary to take pride in their sexuality is beyond me. Running a marathon, learning to drive or conquering any other challenge I can understand but not something that they were born into. You are what you are and I can only surmise it must all be a result of the insecurities created by the 'minority' issue. The day I see demonstrations of hundreds of people promoting ‘Heterosexual Pride’ is the day I’ll know the world has gone mad.
In the mean time I had no idea what a ‘Gay Pride’ would actually consist of. I presumed it would be simply a gathering of a bunch of gay people, who as a rule possess less inhibitions than straight people, probably wearing flowers in their hair and behaving in a jolly, celebratory manner and as it turned out I wasn't too far wrong. I was half
way along the beach track to Downtown on the way to find out when I heard music from the elevated roadway above. Intrigued I scaled the buff and was surprised to find a full scale motorized ticka tape parade slowly moving down Ocean Boulevard and a street lined by deck chaired spectators. It wasn’t exactly Rio De Janeiro in February but was entertaining nonetheless.
Every stereotypical vision of a gay person imaginable was involved in the parade, from Divine style drag queens to hot panted rent boys to middle aged, pot bellied Freddie Mercury lookalikes cracking whips in their bottomless leather chaps. All were advertising their various clubs and gay communities in the Western United States from Seattle to San Diego and it was quite a spectacle as was the event itself, like the Grand Prix of a few weeks earlier held within a fenced off area of the City with four stages of live music and attended by what must have been approaching 20,000 people.
There's a misguided image people have, no doubt inspired in the main by the porn flicks that over the years have flooded out of the nearby Silicon Valley and the Hammer House
of Horror movies of the sixties and seventies that lesbians are for the most part beautiful looking women albeit ones whose sexual preferences do not concur with the ideals of the good book. Let me tell you now following what I saw at Long Beach Gay Pride this idea could not possibly be further from the truth.
Whilst the archetypal gay man, muscled, spray tanned and shaven clean of almost all sign of body hair was represented by the bucket load to the extent that at first glance you could be excused for thinking you were at a gay cloning convention glamorous looking women were completely conspicuous by their absence, the girls who were in attendance appearing to have gone to totally opposite extremes in a successful attempt at making themselves appear as unattractive as feasibly possible. In the three or so hours I spent walking around the site I saw about four attractive women, the vast majority of the remainder who walked around hand in hand or arm in arm being overweight, shaven headed, tattooed and multi pierced beasts.
And I could have pulled ! At one stage in proceedings I was stood watching a couple of
hip hop rappers performing on one of the stages when I sensed someone swiftly approaching and looked up to see a small shirtless man in his late thirties whose hair had been expertly dyed to resemble a leopards skin heading straight for me. It thankfully transpired I wasn’t his prey but as he got alongside me and without breaking his stride he rose onto his tiptoes to whisper Julian Clary like in my general direction "You've got lovely eyes" before merrily continuing on his way. I bet he said that to all the boys !
That evening about 8.30pm I was standing in Phil's lounge talking to his girls as he busily prepared food when a familiar rumble started up out of nowhere. Initially it could quite easily have been one of those planes firing up from the previous afternoon but in a fraction of a second it became apparent exactly what it was. Earthquake number two.
The epi-centre of this one was a lot closer than the one that struck at the tail end of last year, just twenty miles away, and lasted a lot longer, about ten seconds in all. Despite being only a 4.1 strength
quake it was still enough to force Olivia to jump petrified into the nearest set of adult arms, mine, to see Phil brace himself between the kitchen door frame like the Merman holding the crumbling cliffs apart to allow Jasons’ and his Argonauts vessel safe passage and Marisa, the only one of us quick witted enough to do as the experts advise to dive headlong under the dining room table, only removing herself with the grin of a Cheshire Cat when all the shaking had ceased. I returned upstairs to find picture frames and ornaments lying haphazardly on the floor.
Those same experts are confident that 'the big one' will hit within the next twenty years and bearing in mind that each whole number increase on the scale applies thirty one times more energy I just hope to God I'm not here to witness it.
When you reach into the supermarket freezer to pull out that pack of fish fingers have you ever given consideration to what exactly goes into the make up of the door that you’ve just yanked open ? No ?. I thought as much, me neither.
But thankfully every so often in my
12 Months And Counting..
BBQ at Dan and Lisa's with colleagues Nick and Sue. new employment the deadline induced stresses of the money making corporate world are interrupted with a little treat, the latest one entailing a day out to meet with the designers of such doors and a guided tour around the factory that manufactures them. It was, believe it or not very interesting ensuring I’ll never reach for my prawns in the same manner again and the trip also succeeding succinctly in hitting home the point that no matter how dull things become in my clean, air conditioned office they could always get worse.
A workforce of over 500 no doubt minimum wage Hispanics spend all day long on their feet in incessant noise doing exactly the same thing over and over and over again and just half an hour was enough to remind me how privileged I am to not have to carry out such mundane tasks day after day.
Just a handful of days and another smaller earthquake later, Thursday May 21st, marked the first anniversary of my arrival in America. One year ! 365 days !
If I think back to events of just over twelve months ago, arriving at the London's US Embassy on a
freezing cold February morning for my Visa interview or being stood in line in Dublin Airport waiting to get it okayed en route to LAX nervously wondering if I was doing the right thing it all seems like a million years away. So much has happened in the last two years it is frightening. Returning from my round the world trip of a lifetime just over two years ago, sinking into a depressive decline that saw me literally hit rock bottom, medication, therapy and then slowly but surely, thanks to an amazing set of friends and family climbing out and finding myself where I am now.
I remember with perfect clarity the moment Phil suggested a new start. It was August '07, he was in Ellesmere Port on holiday and we were walking home after a boys night out in The Woodland Hotel. As we stopped at the crossroads to go our separate ways Phil, no doubt puzzled by my lowly demeanor once again suggested, as he had a couple of years earlier if I’d fancy a move. It was only after we parted as I walked home alone throwing the pro’s and con’s of the idea around my
head that it finally dawned on me. Why not ? What did I have to lose? Things couldn't get any worse.
Thankfully twelve months on I have absolutely no regrets about the my decision, suffice to say as I've told Phil on a dozen or more occasions that metaphorically it saved my life. I was going nowhere at the speed of light and desperately needed a scenery change and am so glad looking back that I took the opportunity when it was offered.
The novelty of being in a new country which ensured the first few months was like being on an extended holiday however has now completely worn off, California is now just somewhere I live although whilst familiarity definitely breeds contempt I still make sure, at least once a week, to look out from my balcony to the ripples on the moonlit water and remind myself just how fortunate I am to live in such a beautiful spot.
I’ve learned a lot in the last twelve months about the country I now call home, it’s inhabitants and about myself. If you happen to be American please don’t take this personally, it's not necessarily a reflection
on you but here’s just a few observations;-
Fact; American people talk louder than any other nationality in the world and seem to have no inhibitions about doing so. Many has been the time I’ve been sat recovering in a swelteringly hot post workout sauna with a copy of the LA Times attempting to cleanse myself of the stresses of the day and all I can hear outside is two guys trying so hard to get the other to listen to what they’ve got to say that they literally end up screaming at each other leaving me shaking my head and concentrating intently on quelling the desire to open the door and yell at the top of my voice “Shut the **** up” !!
My constant mentioning of this annoying trait to Phil must have had an effect because yesterday as he showered post workout the deafening tones of two fellows in conversation inevitably permeated into his cubicle. Reminiscent of Michael Douglas in 'Falling Down' he snapped and at the very top of his voice yelled "Shhhuuudddd Uuuppppp", a yell that was apparently greeted with a full thirty seconds of silence. I wish I was there.
Fact; People over here generally appear not to be able to function without either a cardboard cup of Coffee, a mobile phone or preferably both and many is the time I have pulled alongside a car guilty of just having performed some reckless manoeuvre and looked across to see the driver talking into a phone held in one hand whilst simultaneously drinking coffee from a cup held in the other. Applying make up at sixty miles per hour is another common sight and as a result I have now taken to giving a long blast on the horn, a wag of the finger and a disapproving shake of the head as I pull alongside someone behaving in this manner just to see the look of shock and horror on their face.
Fact; The City of Long Beach issues in the region of 180,000 parking tickets every year and at an average of 45 dollars per ticket this equates to over $ 8 million entering the City coffers. Despite this they still can’t afford to send a minimum wage Mexican to trim a tree that is affecting my quality of life hence my initiation of the midnight raid. I recently read
of one entrepreneur who has started a website, www.tickethaters.com which for a five dollar subscription sends reminders to move your vehicle on sweeping day. He estimates that he has spent $ 1,000 a year on parking tickets for the ten years he has lived in the City which when I read this selfishly made my mood step up a couple of degrees, my donation to the City coffers in my first twelve months of roughly $ 700 for motoring ‘offences’, six parking and a speeder seeming paltry in comparison.
Fact; When you next visit the United States don’t be fooled like I was by the “you have a nice day now” instruction sent out by almost every checkout cashier and public servant in America, the people may not be quite as genuine as they first seem. A simple greeting from back home such as ‘hi’ or ‘hello’ is usually replaced here with an enquiry as to your health, “How are you today” or “How’s it going” but is rarely spoken with any interest in the answer. To prove a point on several occasions I have answered this question when passing a colleague in the corridor with the truth, “bloomin’
awful”, “pissed off” or a simple "crap" and received a “that’s good” in response as they toddle merrily on their way.
"What's Up ?" or "What's happening ?" are another two greetings that, for the first six months or so at least over here had me completely stumped. To an Englishman the question would naturally be answered along the lines of "Nothing. Why ?" before being overcome by a wave of paranoia as to why the friendly native could possibly think something might be wrong. It took a while but I now realise you can answer the question by saying absolutely anything, "the sky", "the dogs bollocks" anything and the person asking will walk on by satisfied they've done their bit for Anglo American relations.
Fact; The LA Times is an entertaining, well written broadsheet with some excellent photography and one infuriating trait. Not only does every single article bar none fail to complete on the page of it’s inception but it also never continues a story opposite or even overleaf. This leaves the reader to search frustratingly through it’s pages just to finish the article and to make reading the whole paper a frustrating and unecessary lesson
in Origami. It does my head in !
Fact; I was spoiled in the first twenty years or so of my working life as my friends constantly used to remind me and not just with the availability of flexible hour working and fifty six days annual holiday. There is a vast, vast difference between work in the Private and the Public Sectors and whilst I enjoyed (almost) every minute of life with Cheshire County Council there is no doubt it was a leisurely one. Now my working day consists of a constant rush to hit deadline after deadline ensuring that not only do the days fly by but also that by the end of eight hours my head quite often feels fried.
Fact; Tipping and giving your hard earned money to some ignorant tw*t who has just opened a bottle of beer for you is, for the first couple of months at least the hardest thing to get used to of all. Of course time heals, complacency sets in and I now throw my money away without a second thought.
When I grow up I want to be a fire bobby. I’m informed that longer serving firemen
in California earn up to $ 140,000 pa. The job, from what I can gather principally involves buffing up the already spotlessly gleaming red engine’s, sitting drinking tea on the bench outside the station and patrolling the beach seeing which member of the ample crew can spot the prettiest girl. As for LBPD...... no comment.
Fact; And talking of the LBPD..... Californian's are a very protective bunch, some may say overly so. They do all within the limits of possibility to protect their beaches, their ocean, their environment and their history (what little bit there is) and do even more to protect their little children. Nothing wrong with that I can hear you say and I am all in agreement. But what I read today in my heated newspaper room, the Belmont gym Sauna, had me shaking my head in incredulity believing that contrary to my earlier statement the world, or this particular part of the world at least has actually already gone mad.
Get this, a new law has been passed which will come into effect in a couple of months or so banning the smoking of a cigarette, a pipe, a stonking great joint, bong or
any other object which could be deemed in the least bit flammable within twenty feet of a bus stop or farmers market (open air grocery stall).
It appears that the powers that be have completely forgotten about the ultimate show of American machismo pride, the zillions of souped up open backed trucks with ridiculously over sized wheels that clog the freeways and spew untold amounts of poison into the air and decided to pick on and inconvenience even further what has now by far become the lepper like minority in this health conscious state. To me it's not a million miles from the ideals of a certain Mr Adolf Hitler.
I bet no consideration whatsoever was given by the authorities to which way the wind was blowing when empowering the over zealous rookie cop to step from behind the parked car armed with cosh in one hand and tape measure in the other, to string out twenty one feet on the pavement and yell "this is a bust" before slapping on the cuffs. Makes me so relieved I gave up on my arrival over here.
Fact;I had hoped by moving to a new country I would be
able to start afresh on eradicating some of my weaknesses, most notably my crass impatience. Patience is a virtue and one about which I know nothing. I have an irritating tendency to rush everything I do, from driving home from the office to having a shave all so I can move onto the next thing even if one doesn’t exist.
Fact;I love food, you don’t get a nickname such as Piggy for no apparent reason and this impatience affects even such simple pleasures as eating and ensures that food is not quite the pleasure it should be. All day long my mind will conjur up lip smacking images about whatever it is that is planned for my evening meal and then, when the time comes it’ll be wolfed down so quickly that there’ll be little chance of savouring let alone tasting the flavours. Definitely room for improvement.
Fact;I say ‘me’ instead of ‘my’ a lot and it’s a lazy habit I’m trying to get out of. I also talk way too fast forgetting my speedy Scouse brogue sounds must sound like Swahili to a lot of Americans. Most people over here think I sound either Irish or Australian
so if ever I needed a reason to slow down .....
Fact; Google Maps is the best invention ever and a bigger step for mankind than any ever taken by Neil Armstrong. To even consider how many wrong or illegal turns I would have taken without it and the resultant effect on the ozone layer doesn’t warrant thinking about. A stroke of true genius.
Fact;I've tried and am still trying but it is hard to get excited about American Sports simply because the tension is sucked out of them by the sheer volume of games that are played. Even before the end of season Play Off's commence a team has played 162 games in Baseball and 82 in Basketball and Ice Hockey. Only Football, and not the round ball variety, of the four major sports gets close to a situation where every game matters but even then the top four teams from each Division progress to the Play Off's, a mini season in itself. Baseball and Hockey are non starters for me but Football and, surprisingly even for me Basketball are the two I can and do watch.
And finally, some awards for achievements during my first
twelve months;-
Getting Away With Murder Award - Glenn Roeder (Former Norwich City manager) for driving the knife into a club already on it’s knees whilst all the time pleading innocence to any responsibility whatsoever.
Runner Up - Peter Grant (Previous manager) for putting the club on it's knees.
Captain Leaving a Sinking Ship Award - David Beckham leaving LA for Milan (and can anyone really blame him ?)
Gigs of the Year - AC/DC (LA Forum) Dec ‘08, Y & T (Hermosa Beach) March ‘09, Tiesto (Anaheim) Dec ‘08
Movie of the Year - 'The Wrestler' starring Mickey Rourke and 'Flight 666' starring Iron Maiden.
Best Actor - Mickey Rourke ; The Wrestler
Album of the Year - Death Magnetic - Metallica
Most Invaluable Invention - Google Maps
UK Footballer of the Year - Frank Lampard
UK Manager of the Year - Phil Brown
Most Sought After Delicacy In America - Cheshire Cheese, Cumberland Sausage and Lucozade
TV Show of the Year - I don't really watch my TV other than soccer due to the amount of commercials reaching saturation point. If you thought cable TV in
the UK was bad try the USA where adverts seem to appear at the end of every sentence. Aside from soccer ther's one other show I like to watch and that is Anthony Bourdain’s Travel Show; Travel Channel
TV Channel of the Year - Fox Soccer Channel with the exception of the two loud mouthed Cockney pricks who host Monday night’s phone in show. It's lovely to lie on the couch on a Saturday morning dressed in just a pair of shorts with the windows wide open and watch a footie game from back home knowing that the white flashes that permanently flit across the screen is not interference but that the game is taking place in the midst of a hail storm ensuring the shots of the crowd, wrapped up to the nines are almost as pleasing as the game itself.
About Time Too Award - OJ Simpson finally receiving porridge.
Most Terrifying Moment of the Year Award - Holding my breath and pushing off the top of Mammoth Mountain with two borrowed planks of wood attached to my feet.
As the end of my first year came and went I was finally able to
12 Months and Counting..
William H. Macey lookalike posing. begin to look forward to my return trip home, set for mid June with a week spent with family, friends and acquaintances in the UK and a week spent digging up huge clumps of earth with a group of beer drinking rabscallions in Portugal. Before all that could happen though there was one more little trauma to go through but for now that'll have to wait .......
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waymo
non-member comment
I suppose an inabillilty to digest any form of instruction manual would come under impatience?