The woman at the American Airlines check-in counter - the same airlines that crammed me into seats en route to Central America - noticed my height and asked, "Would you like an exit row?"
WOULD I LIKE AN EXIT ROW? Pshh, would Ben Rothlesberger like to go to a frat party?
The angel in American Airlines garb rearranged my seating so that I sat aisle seat, exit row from San Jose to Dallas while there was also no one in the center seat. Extraordinary. Then, from Dallas to LA, I sat first row of coach seating where there was no seat/wall/reclining asshole/nothing in front of me. Miraculous. It was arguably the single most comfortable commute of my life.
Uncle D (aka Unc Deez Nutz) picked me up at the airport igniting a glorious weekend of adult time. It was likely a much needed maturation period as I was on the heels of my alcoholic weekend with the New Jersey school teachers and needed to feel that I indeed was learning something beyond my beer intake abilities on this trip.
Sharing my stories and photos with my LA family was fantastic. I was able to continue my newly learned task of doing nothing, although the days never felt empty. I filtered photos and started exercising again. You know, not like constantly active, hiking and exploring a new town exercise, but rather good old fashioned tear yourself down to bring yourself up exercise. I tried running again and sat on runner's high for the first 10 minutes of a jog.
"I could do this forever," I thought to myself. Then reality set in and I knew that outside of 10 minutes/1.2 miles I was toast. It's going to be a long road back to recovery.
That said, there's really not much better than a run in beautiful weather and winter in Southern California is pretty nice weather.
Perhaps the highlight of my time in LA - outside of chit-chatting with the Aunt and Uncle - was filling in for Unc Deez Nutz's Temple softball team. The Emanuel Squad was sitting on a 3-4 record and the injury bug had really hit the team hard. I was filling in for Petzold. Mike Petzold that is. I played left-center field and batted 10th. Right behind Amanda.
Emanuel jumped on top early, carrying a 6-1 lead into the middle innings. From there, after a few defensive blunders and some sound hitting from the green opponents (I can't remember their synagogue's name) we headed into the seventh and final inning, tied at 9.
Amanda, our tenacious right fielder and 9-hole-slugger, came to bat with two on and no one out. After watching two close strikes whizz in, Amanda worked the count to 2-2. She then struck out for the third time that afternoon.
Which then brought up Petzold. Petzold had had a good game to that point, 2-3 with an RBI, but now was why they'd brought Petzold - a former college baseball player and All-State performer - to the valley: to win ball games.
With a 1-0 count, Petzold got ahold of one and drove it deep into the right-centerfield gap, a sure double if not inside-the-parker. One problem: in softball, there is no right-centerfield gap as there are four outfielders including a right-centerfielder. Petzold's drive was nothing but a long out. Mighty Petzold had failed.
But that's why baseball (softball) is a team sport. The ultimate team sport. You perform an individual task (hitting, fielding, throwing) for the good of the team. Emanuel had Petzold's back.
Another single and a green team error led to an Emanuel run and a 10-9 lead heading into the bottom of the seventh.
The green team promptly put runners on and tied the game at 10. With one out and runners on second and third, from left-center Petzold recommended an intentional walk; load the bases, create a force out situation where we could either turn a double play and get out of the inning or get the lead runner at home.
Thus, the green teams three-hole hitter came to the plate, bases-loaded, winning run on third, a tense situation.
Pop-up. Two down.
It was now time to face the green cleanup hitter, a monster of a hebrew who had already belted one home run on the day. The entire game clung to this moment. Minimal preparation and almost no blood, sweat, or tears had been expended getting to right now, the pivotal moment in a completely inconsequential game. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
After running the count to 1-1, the Emanuel pitcher looked in, got his sign (dramatic effect), and delivered.
Now, I wish I could sit here and write that Emanuel shortstop Don Spetner (aka Unc Deez Nutz) made a diving play up the middle, back handed it to second for the force, and we went home with a gutsy tie.
Or that there was a Luis Gonzalez-esque flair that Spetner made a running, over the shoulder, back to home plate, one handed snag of to send us home with a ballsy ending to a great game.
The reality is that the green cleanup hitter rolled the 1-1 delivery into the gap at short Spetner made a good effort to get to the ball and square up to it, but ultimately bobbled the ball in an effort to get the force out at third. The green team secured the victory with on the E-6. 11-10, Green Temple.
Emanuel took the loss well. We knew we'd battled hard and, by all reports, Green Temple had beaten Emanuel pretty soundly the last time they'd faced off. We consoled Spetner, who was in surprisingly good spirits, and reminded him that we wouldn't have even been in position to tie if it weren't for him.
I promised not to tell Unc Deez Nutz's children of the play. But, failure builds character and you're never too old to learn a lesson. Love ya Uncle D.
That afternoon I took the train to San Diego. It was an easy two hour train and I was greeted by a paternal sibling, Aunty Jon Lea.
San Diego was defined by long walks with Aunty, glorious weather, movies, and grand-er attempts at running. I had a fabulous time with my Aunt while I was there and enjoyed discussing the various, and sometimes down and dark, films we watched. We saw Greenberg which wasn't as funny as I'd expected, but had tremendous dialogue and very interesting characters. A well written movie, decent story. We also caught the Oscar Nominated Animated Shorts at the (possibly) historic La Paloma Theater in Encinitas. Those are worth checking out.
From San Diego I was off to Coachella, the three day Music and Arts Festival that was an absolutely amazing experience. I documented my time there at WC Homer and you can read all about it here.
Coachella was a microcosm of my adventures as I travelled there really only knowing one of the five other people attending. We left, however, a small family who camped together on a 10x30 plot for three days. Again, it was an experience best shared with others.
By the end, we likely smelled bad as the peak hours shower line was usually around 2-3 hours long and we were crammed in there with 75,000 other concert goers. We won the self proclaimed Green-ella Award by reusing melted ice water in empty water bottles for "brief showers".
And then it was back to San Diego, passing a little more time in America's Finest City before I was on the road again; this time en route to Frankfurt, Germany (more to come on that).
It was nice to be back in the States and with people I love. I miss my folks, I've seen all of their siblings though and it's been nice. The NBA Playoffs have not fulfilled my athletics appetite and I'm still reveling in the end of the Madness. But it's back to traveling again (sort of).
More. To. Come.
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