Leaving California

Today is Monday, departure day, theeeee day....

Yesterday: Great day and night at the apartment, at Beaumonts, by the pool, at Station Sushi (best in San Diego, btw, and go talk to Chris at the bar, guy cannot refuse a saki shot, also ask for the Chef's Special, not on the menu, but I digress...) 

Even managed to pile nearly all my belongings into the Jeep (thanks Adam) in preparation for a early start. All in all, a very good day. I am thankful, excited, ready. 

Wake up Monday, intent on saying some tough goodbyes, grabbing an americano, and hitting the dusty trail for Phoenix, where friends and family and birthday dinner await. Brian and I walk downstairs to cram a few things in the Jeep. Except the Jeep isn't where I parked it. 

Stolen. 

Let that sink in for just a second. Today is departure day, theee day, my birthday, day one of a sixty day trip that has been in planning for over a year, and suddenly, I am without my horse and carriage. Probably in Tijuana by now. 

I blink a few times, car really is not there. Not in a tow zone. Not a prank (though I wouldn't put it past you, Marsch). Gone. 

What follows is a flurry of phone calls to towing companies, police, insurance adjusters, rental car companies, parents... all friendly and concerned...

Insurance guy: Any personal belongings in the vehicle?

JL: Yes. All of them. Everything. 

Insurance guy: Geez. Some people have all the luck...

(unclear if he is sarcastically describing my position, or seriously describing the thief's. I do not probe). 

Another...

Cop: I'm gonna need your date of birth

JL: Four Seven Eighty Three.

Cop: Geeez. Happy Birthday. 

Soon I have an army of individuals lending their particular expertise to my little issue, and this makes me feel very good about humanity, America. Yeah, they are people doing their jobs, but there is a concern and empathy in their voices that makes this easier on me. This isn't a catastrophe, it's a blip, a curveball. I'm making it to Arizona today. 

After lunch with Becca (hi, thanks) and after two hours of haggling with rent-a-car companies (can't leave California, can't have an SUV, mileage caps, bla bla bla), I discover that for a mere three grand, National will rent an SUV for sixty days and I can drive it anywhere I damn well please, "but stay out of Mexico, please" terms to which I gladly agree, and I'm in business. Brian drops me at airport lot. Counter guy asks my age, to which I respond "25" for the first time (luckily, 24 would have been a dealbreaker), has me sign some stuff, and says I can take my pick of any SUV on the lot, there are many, this is fun. Insurance pays. 

I load my brand new Chevy Equinox (black, looks a bit like my late Jeep, in fact) and hit the Interstate 8. It is 3pm, if I haul ass, I'll make it Phoenix to see family, friends, birthday dinner and the Kansas-Memphis game. I like that my priorities are back where they should be. 

Somewhere, a car thief is rummaging through my stuff disappointed. No iPods, computers, cameras, TVs, cash (still have that stuff, btw, whew). Just a bunch of clothes and books. Good luck with all that, bro. Hope those suits fit for that job of yours. Hope you enjoy Atlas Shrugged, you lowlife. 

As I drive, this thought somehow gives me comfort and I'm laughing out loud. "I'm Ready" by Jack's Mannequin bumping in the Equinox. 360 miles to Phoenix, and I am as light and worry-free and fired up as I can ever remember being.  Crisis averted, I am on the road. Finally.