Cluckers Clucks America - Day .5

The story of my trip across country really starts the day before we actually departed, specifically once the sun went down. After a chaotic final day at the 'Glass in which I jammed in hasty goodbyes, tried to explain what my job actually entailed to my replacement, and stuffed my face with yet more farewell cake, I picked Robbie up at the Westwood/UCLA Bus depot.

We headed back to the Montwood to drop off his bags and pack the car up. This brings me to the subject of my Jeep. Rob and I had decided to name her "EL BURRO VOLANDO." That's Spanish for "The Flying Donkey." This seemed an appropriate name as we had brainstormed earlier in the week that a good way to make some money on our journey was to shuttle illegal immigrants across the Mexican border as we passed through southwest Texas. Stuff a few Mexicans in amongst my bags of dirty clothing and Ernest Hemingway novels and wave to the border patrol as we cruised past. Booyah! El Burro Volando!

However, as I began packing up the Jeep on Friday evening, one of my best friends from Spyglass, a plastic chicken I'd bought last year named Mr. Cluckers, fell out of one of the boxes. I picked him up and put him on the hood for a second while I loaded some worthless junk into the jeep. As soon as Robbie and I saw Cluckers sitting on the hood, we knew we'd found our mascot. Our hood ornament. And so we prepared ourselves for the trip, now titled: "Cluckers Clucks America."

Anyhow, with El Burro Volando halfway filled, we decided it was time to go get some food and beverages. With plans to meet everyone else set for later in the evening, we decided to get some sushi. In-n-Out was a consideration, as was Mexican food, but we decided both of those could be tackled in the first couple days of our journey. Once we left the West Coast, getting sushi wouldn't really be an option. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but something told me sushi from Las Cruces, New Mexico or El Paso, Texas just wasn't going to be the same. A couple tall Sapporo's, some sushi, and one big glob of wasabi later, we headed out to the bars.

Now seems an appropriate time to bring up my initial plan for departing LA the next morning. The plan was to pack the rest of the car up on Saturday morning and leave Los Angeles at 5 or 6am, well before the traffic would start, and well before I'd have any doubts about leaving the warm weather. A good plan... in theory. What I failed to recognize was that my logical plan was about to be shot to hell by my friends anxiously waiting to celebrate me departure. My sorrowful departure vs. their celebratory farewell. Advantage celebration: they could sleep it off well into Saturday.

When the first round of Patron shots hit the table, I realized we weren't going to make our 5am departure. Bon Voyage!