A Trip to Venice Beach

A yearly trip to Venice Beach, inevitably and irrevocably affects the life of me and my family. I’m unsure why we do it. Maybe we just need the fresh air. Maybe we need to see people that make us feel better about our mundane white-trash existence, or maybe it’s something a little more meaningful than that. I prefer to adopt the latter as my theory of reference and how I’d like to start my very first blog. With an observation for hope and the hopeless. . .

We venture to this Mecca of Filth and Depravity every year like clockwork. It draws us with its “Lost Boys – style” strip and a cast of characters to rival any “Okkie in-law” family reunion. In the first day alone we saw a new addition to our beloved boardwalk. An adult video viewing “room” next to a brand new medicinal marijuana facility, which happens to be next to an ice cream parlor. So I’m thinking . . .”one stop shopping”, right? 
All seriousness aside, that kind of made my skin crawl, especially while shielding my four-year-olds eyes from the assortment of petroleum jelly and various other lubricants modestly displayed by a couch in what I would assume was a “waiting” area or foyer for the new “Cinematque”. It also proudly boasted on a well-worn, though not well-spelled sign “These movies are new 2 U!” and “Double X-rated”. Begging the question was the third “X” left on the cutting room floor or provided by the woman using the park grass across the walkway to relieve herself?
But we trekked on with a fairly uneventful remainder of the day, That is until we hit the Marina Del Rey Del Taco. We went in, innocently enough, ordering from the dollar menu and squabbling over the size of drinks we could get with a limited budget. We collected our half-pound bean burritos and drinks and enjoyed each others company. That is until my oldest son directed me to the drunk man at the counter. This apparent “Veteran of a war unknown to those that can read” proceeded to knock over 2 cash registers and a condiment stand, with the hopes of finding his wife. According this highly decorated soldier, his wife had been kidnapped earlier that day by the “Feds”. Obviously in a top secret attempt to hide either his prescription medication or the last of his Mad Dog 20/20. I’m assuming the latter portion of my keen observation. Call me intuitive.
Although my 18 year old son felt the need to defend my wife and my other 3 children, I went ahead and let the off-duty manager and another well-medicated “Vet” shore the bulk of the responsibility until the proper authorities arrived. I assured my family, should this trouble-maker have dared make a move towards us, I would have bravely;and without hesitation brushed him aside. He was “LIT”. I wasn’t exactly worried.
Anyway, we watched as Culver City’s finest promptly gathered him off the ground where he was now begging for forgiveness and threatening a police brutality law-suit. We finished our smallish beverages and returned to our vehicle, where our dog had been begging for mercy from a rich Lexus-driving woman (w/cell phone at the ready) who re-entered the restaurant 4 times to “get condiments” during the malay and check whether our pet was being harmed in any way. Ignoring everything else going on inside.
Let me assure you our dog was fine. Had food,water and an ample air supply during our short but memorable dining experience. On our way back to the motel after our first “Night Away”, we paused as a unit, to reflect on the day that had been. As we rounded the corner to a good nights lodging, my oldest summed up the first night with probably the best observation of the day. As we drove past a corner mini-strip he noticed the sign. “Donuts,Liquor and Tacos”. His comment? “Well that’s pretty much got a full day covered for these guys doesn’t it?”
Yes, indeed.
Although I hadn’t intended my inaugural blog to be a travel log, I think this might be the perfect place to sign off for the evening. I hope someone actually reads this and finds it enjoyable. I would like to do more of these in the near future and will if there is any sort of demand. I’m no Perez Hilton, Ashton or Demi. Meaning I’m not gay or fat or need scores of people to validate me as a human being. I’m not Angelina or Brad or Jon and Kate. I’m an ordinary guy who watches all of these guys just like you. I find the everyday intriguing sometimes. Sometimes not. But I’ve always got an opinion and I enjoy bouncing it off of a few people. My family gets a little tired,
Peace Out-More Later

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