About a month ago for my birthday I vacillated between two corners of the U.S., San Diego & Maine as the destinations for some much needed time away from Dallas. I ultimately ended up going with the west coast purely on the examination of the weather forecast.
Day 1: March 27th.
This hoodrat's first time in SoCal commenced with an ill-fated start.
After sketching out how I'd spend my time, I showed up to the rental counter for what was going to be a much-needed set of wheels. Skrrrrt!
I flashed my ID and debit card to the car rental agent eager to get the day started at only 8:30AM. The daydreams of nature, food, runs, and perfect city walks flashed like anchovies through my mind as I let bro complete the rental process.
¡Pero, zas, cabrón!
¡Pero, zas, cabrón!
"Your card isn't going through, do you have another one?"
😐 typical card chip reader error that I always go through, I told him to try to clean the card chip because I definitely did not lack funds. I saw him try again, and again.
"Your driver's license is expried as well by the way. Do you have another one?"
D'fuck?!?!!??? My daydream quickly turned into what felt like another hazy dream. I looked at my DL and saw the 2/14 expiration date. I kept looking at it, hoping the date would magically not be true. I fumbled through my wallet thinking I must have given him an old one, but no. All reality. Hijo de su reputísima madre...
"No. fucking. way" I said, bemused, laughing in disbelief. I told bro that I couldn't believe how I didn't see this. We both found it amusing.
Thankfully, I am alive in modern times. The chariots-for-hire, known as uber, would be my primary mode of transportation. The first of many Ubz to escort me on my ventures was a lad named, Cuauhtlah. When I hopped in his car, there was a paper plate with kid handwriting that said, "#1 Dad". A simple proof of love. Fucking awesome. I couldn't help but tell him, "Oye, tu tienes nombre de Azteca!" We quickly bonded over the history of the Aztec & Mexica, about my fuck-up, San Diego, & family. Fuck the car rental. He dropped me off at the center of Little Italy where I devoured an egg & cheese panini. See pics of the day's unfolding:
Also, the plane ride from Dallas to San Diego made me realize that La Firma is our version of pop-punk norteño. More on that later.
Mueres de ganas,
Erik T.
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