Up Your Ass, Mickey Mouse (Part 3)

Okay, so when we last left our vacation epic, we had just finished three less-than magical days at Disneyland. But we were far from done, kids. We still had two more days in California before we had to pack up, and head back to the relative sanity of Colorado.

Let's resume, shall we?

Wednesday, July 23rd- Universal Studios, Los Angeles

We were staying in Anaheim, which is around 30 miles from Los Angeles, and our next stop, Universal Studios. We decided to sleep in a bit after three full days at Disney, and leave the hotel at 10:00, to avoid the rush hour jam on Interstate Five, or just "The 5".

We were so wrong about so many things this week, why the hell should we stop now? It took us 90 minutes to drive those 30 goddamn miles. The closer we got to L.A., the worse the traffic got. I discovered later that there are several better ways to get there than taking The 5, but that's what Mapquest told me to do. And there are two things I don't disobey- Mapquest, and my Magic 8-Ball.

There was no wreck. There was no bad weather. There was no construction. That's the way traffic is all the time in California. Now I know why people shoot at each other on the highways out there. They're bored. They need something to do while they're waiting to move.

While we were waiting in the jam, I made a mental list of the things that I would rather do than live in Los Angeles, or anywhere in California.

Here is a sampling from my list:

I would rather watch a two week continuous reel of "St. Elmo's Fire" than live in California.

I would rather make sweet love to Rosie O'Donnell, and have her sing show tunes at the same time.

I would rather dip my junk in a tank of piranhas that haven't eaten in a month.

I would rather get a lap dance from Hillary Clinton.

Anyway, we pulled in to Universal around 11:30, and spent the day. We had no intention of coming back through L.A. during rush hour, so we knew we'd be there until around 7:00. We had until 11:00 the next morning to check out of the hotel, so we thought maybe we could get back in 16 hours if we caught a break with the traffic.

I don't know if it was because we had a Disneyland hangover, but Universal wasn't all that great.

The first thing we did was take the studio tour, which had it's moments. You realize that they can do some magical stuff with film, making something look big and spectacular when the real thing is a little piece of shit. The coolest thing was the boat that they used in the newest version of King Kong. The whole thing was about three feet tall, and they made it look life-sized in the movie.

That took about an hour, and then we explored the rest of the park. They had a new Simpsons ride, so we waited for 45 minutes to go on that. Right when we got to the front, guess what? The bastard broke down. Un-freakin'-believable. Story of our week.

So we waited another 15 minutes for them to fix it, and finally got on. The Simpsons ride is another innovation that we saw a lot at Disneyland. You get in a roller coaster seat, they put you in front of a big screen, and they move you around, blowing wind in your face, while the images on the screen give you the feeling that you're actually on a coaster.

Call me old fashioned, but if I'm on a roller coaster, I'd rather move, and have the stuff around me stay still, instead of the other way around. I'm sure they save a lot of money and space designing it the new way, but it's not the same.

The only other thing there really worth mentioning is the Jurassic Park ride, which was the best thing that happened all day. It's a water ride, where you get on a boat that takes you around, and big dinosaurs come out of nowhere and scare you. Then at the end, you go down a steep 80 foot ramp, and get soaked by the splash. Great ride.

Now, if you think there was any way we were going to get our four year old daughter on that sonofabitch, you apparently haven't read part II of my saga. So the boys and Annie went first, and The Girl and I waited at the end for them to finish. We had a great time waiting, because you could stand near the bottom of the big ramp in an area where the boat splash would come over the rails. The Girl loves water, so I stood there with her and we were both drenched by the time the others came out. I had a case of the Swamp Ass for the rest of the day, but it was worth it.

Other than that, there was nothing much memorable about Universal, except maybe the half hour we watched a live version of Fear Factor. That was okay, except when the contestants would have to eat goat scrotum, or drink beetle puree, or some other nasty shit. I never understood why that was necessary in the original show- it always made me turn the channel. Well, that and Joe Rogan. What a boner that guy was.

Anyway, we left Universal at 7:00, and by some miracle made it back 30 miles to the hotel in an hour. After taking the kids swimming in the frigid pool, and then relocating a certain organ that had gone elsewhere because the water was so goddamn cold, we went to bed and got ready to check out of Anaheim and head on down the coast to San Diego, where we had a date with Shamu the Whale.

Thursday, July 24th- Somewhere north of San Diego, California

We packed up and left Anaheim at around 9:00, and started on the 100 mile trip to San Diego. We planned to spend from around 11 until 7 at Sea World, and then make it to the hotel in time for dinner at the beach and the inevitable swimming pool visit.

We thought this was a great plan.

Well, it just wouldn't have been right if that part of our trip didn't somehow get fucked up. About halfway there, we saw a sign on the highway that there had been an accident, and to expect some delays. We didn't know at the time what kind of delay we were looking at.

We got near San Clemente, and traffic came to a dead halt. I'm talking about sitting there for 20 minutes, and not moving an inch. We turned on the radio to see if we could find out what was going on.

It turned out that just to screw up our day, some selfish bastard in a tanker truck had rolled his vehicle, and splattered his sorry ass all over the highway. I guess there were body parts everywhere, because they had all five lanes shut down. And there's only one way to get to San Diego- U.S. Highway 15.

So we started to do damage control in our van, and tried to figure out what we were going to do. The most urgent thing was to find a way off the highway, so we could whiz and then evaluate our situation. It took another half hour to move a half mile, but we finally exited in San Clemente and found a gas station.

After filling up our tank (at $4.69 per gallon, by the way-I threw up a little in the back of my mouth) we spotted a brown sign that said, "San Clemente Beach". So after some discussion, we decided that we would spend a couple of hours at the beach. Certainly they would have scraped the Rubber Duck off the road by then (if you get that reference, you're old), traffic would be flowing again, and we could still get in a good six hours at Sea World.

We pulled into the parking lot at the beach feeling very proud of our improvisational skills. California was not going to kick our ass. Not any more.

We had a friggin' ball at the beach, especially yours truly. The older kids had been to the ocean once, but they were really small, and didn't remember much about it. And the little ones, including The Girl, had never been at all.

The day was beautiful- not real hot, and the water was amazingly pretty warm. I had heard that swimming at the beach in California wasn't that great, because the ocean was always cold. Not in this case. Maybe things were turning around for us...

My favorite thing was waiting for a big wave to come in, and then running and jumping into it, and letting it knock me back. I'm fascinated by how powerful the ocean is. I've only been there a handful of times in my entire life, so this was still new enough for me to act like a kid.

It was maybe the best two hours of the whole vacation. We played Nerf football in the waves, the little ones dug holes in the sand- it was brilliant. There was the one incident, when I was laying on the beach, and the locals gathered around me, and tried to push me back into the sea. "Make sure his blowhole isn't clogged", they said. But other than that...

Until...

I'm not quite sure why, but The Girl only poops about once a week. But when she goes, it's massive. Adult rhinos have nothing on this little girl. She must lose half her body weight when she finally drops anchor. And when she needs to go, it's right now.

Well, she was having so much fun, she forgot to tell us she needed to do the stinky. So next thing you know, she came running up, and showed us the big ol' Fudge Dragon sticking out the back of her tiny swimsuit.

As my dad likes to say: Jesus Tap Dancin' Christ.

So bless her heart, Annie picked up The Girl and sprinted like Usain Fuckin' Bolt to the bathrooms, and dealt with what had to be the gnarliest cleanup job ever.

The boys and I did our part- we stayed behind and made poop jokes.

"Hey Dad! Lauren gave birth to a big, brown, baby boy!"

"Hey Dad! Did you see that mud monkey she made?"

"Did you see that? Lauren made ass-kabobs!" (That was mine. I feel it's important to interact with my children. Shut up.)

So after "wet cleanup on aisle three", we were ready to get back on the road. While we were changing in the restroom that wasn't completely wrecked, I happened upon a California Highway Patrol (or CHiPs) officer that had pulled into the park. Our conversation went a little like this:

Me- "Hello officer. Do you have any idea what the status of the highway is out there?"

Ponch- "Why, yes sir. It's still fucked up, big time."

Me- "I see. When do you think I'll be able to get to San Diego?"

Ponch (smiling)- "Oh, are you and the family headed to Sea World?

Me (smiling back)- "You betcha!"

Ponch (still smiling)- "No, you're not."

Me (smile fading)- "Uh, why not, sir?"

Ponch (smile also fading)- "Because when somebody croaks on the highway, they have to have a full investigation before they move the body. It can take 10 or 11 hours. The soonest you'll get to San Diego is around 9:00 tonight-right when Sea World closes."

Me- "Officer, could you please take your revolver out of the holster, and blow my goddamn head off? Pretty please?"

We paid for the Sea World tickets, and we had reservations at a fairly expensive hotel in San Diego. And we couldn't get to either one. It was 1:00 PM. Now what?

Your hero had a suggestion for the rest of the family. "What if we head back to Nevada? It's Thursday- we can probably get a room at the Buffalo Bill's Hotel, and I'm sure the roller coaster there is fixed by now. They have a nice pool. Then Friday morning, we can get an early start back to Vegas, and spend the whole day there. What do you think?"

Nobody could think of a better idea, so back to Nevada we went. We got our reservation cancelled without charge at the San Diego hotel, so that was something, I guess.

From where we were, it should have taken about four hours.

It took six.

Why, you ask? Because there was a wreck on the highway just north of Anaheim.

Of course there was.

We decided to get off of the gridlocked mess, and take some side roads around the jam. Annie did a hell of a job navigating with her road atlas. At that point, I didn't give a fat rat's ass anymore where we went. I just wanted to keep moving, and get the Sam Hell out of the state.

I officially had had enough of California. I would have rather eaten crushed glass, while talking politics with Barbra Streisand, than spend another minute in that shit-hole of a state.

Get...me...the... fuck...outta...here...

So we finally found our way back to the highway, got past all the traffic, and made our way back across the desert and into Nevada. This time we weren't as lucky with the weather as we were the previous week. It was hot. Like 113 degrees hot.

When we stopped for gas in Barstow (quick note: If the U.S. ever needs an enema, it will be given in Barstow, California), we could barely walk on the pavement at the station with our shoes on. We're talkin' about hot.

And you know what didn't help? Your pasty white little buddy forgot to apply sunscreen before frolicking at the beach. The last time my upper torso was exposed to two hours of sun was around 1994. I was starting to feel significant pain under my "F the French" t-shirt. More on this later. It's not good.

So we finally made it over the state line, I cried just a few tears of joy, and we pulled into Buffalo Bill's at around seven.

The roller coaster was closed for repairs.

Fuck me.

Next time in the fourth and final chapter: Wildlife at Buffalo Bill's, an interesting Friday in Vegas, and our final night on vacation in Green River,Utah.