As soon as we hit California, something in my changed. I knew this is what I had been waiting for, and I was excited. If for some reason I had to turn around and go back home, I still would have left happy.
Passing the boarder made Neil a bit worried, but I assured him we wouldn't even be stopped. We weren't, and we made out way into the Coachella Valley. I've had friends who live in Indio and Palm Desert, and it seemed like a blast. They have often invited me to Coachella Music Festivel but I never took them up on the offer. But fuck did I want to.
The pure bliss I experienced in Arizona was almost completely forgotten by the time we hit San Bernadino. It was once again time for us to stop for a Chicago Blackhawks game, but this time it was important. They were playing the LA Kings.
We were in enemy territory.
I didn't think to bring a shirt or a jersey, but we figured that Neil's Blackhawk's tattoo was enough. We were ready. Although not for disappointment, which is exactly what happened.
The first place we stopped was an Applebees. I'm not partial to them, in fact, I think they suck. But I was willing to make an exception. They were watching baseball, on every screen. Given that both of Southern Cali's teams suck, they couldn't be watching the Dodgers on EVERY screen, right? They were. They didn't even know what hockey was. Seriously.
Given that there team had won the Stanley Cup the year prior, certainly somewhere close had to be playing it. We asked, and the locals couldn't even think of a place. This wouldn't happen in Chicago. I used to give shit to fair weather fans, but I have a new grown appreciation for them. At least in Chicago, people are willing to support their teams even when they are losing. The Kings were doing rather well, and not one person gave a shit.
We couldn't find our default, Buffalo Wild Wings, anywhere, so we decided to take a chance on a TGI Friday's. We got lucky, they said, as there were some Kings fans already there. Well, one fan, as it were.
In Chicago, places like that would be packed. Every single one of them. Even a place like Friday's, you would see husbands pigeon necking around to watch the game and ignore their wives, if only for a second. Apparently not in LA.
We had some fun rapport with the ONE (lady) fan at Friday's, but no one else gave a shit. When we cheered, people stared at us. At least in Texas people knew why we were being ignorant. Not here. At least the bartender was nice enough to not cut us off for being crazy.
The game was pretty uneventful, the Hawks one, but our celebration was not as gnarly as we had hoped. We were hoping to get dirty looks from Kings fans, but we ended up just getting dirty looks from the random people enjoying their meal.
At least we had the drive up the coast and our destination within reach to look forward to.
We never did get the sweet girl we made friends with at Friday's name, but if she every reads this...
Haha, we won!
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