The coming Ghavacalypse
Driving in LA is probably one of the most troublesome tasks known to Americans. Sure, outside of the US, there are land mines and other terrible problems. But in the relative bubble of our nation the LA roads are a bit like something from Fury Road. Needless to say needing to drive a half hour to meet up with people was not on my agenda for good plans. That said, I’m glad I did. Today became something of a guild meetup for World of Warcraft. Through Anthony I’ve met a lot of very fun people. I’m quite boring but I can at least appreciate the presence of non-boring people.
We started off the day with lots of chips and guacamole. If anyone is willing to drop the gold to purchase guacamole I’m willing to drop it all in my mouth. Slowly the folks started rolling in. “Howdy I’m Bonquanda.” “Itsa me, Hunnids!” and so on. Sure, they didn’t actually say their wow names, but my brain pieced it all together. Also nobody was mimicking mario. But maybe they should have been.
The most fascinating thing of this get together was how quickly all the people from Gamblit huddled together. As if sheltering ourselves from the boozicane that was about to tear through the apartment. Even when folks started getting social you could track the line of gamblit employees. They, and consequently I, were almost always in a line, or a circle, or a square. If anything shot through our defensive line and broke us apart we’d eventually congeal back together.
The second half of the party involved hanging out poolside. The introspection and conversations had therein were outside of my wheel well. I suppose I had a few good stories to tell but I’m generally not a loud fella which means they’d have likely ended mid sentence. Is what it is. On that note, Anthony lives in a very very nice apartment complex. They’ve got fancy guards out front, fancy fences, fancy rooftops, and a fancy pool with faux waterfall. Even the pool is shaped a bit like the beach with a gradual incline into it. Presumably so that people with wheelchairs can still enjoy going for a swim.
Alternatively so that drunk folks can slide into the pool like they are stealing a base.
Once everyone had their fill of toe dipping in the hot tub we meandered back up to the apartment. I had been planning to perhaps sneak out like a spectre, phasing through the walls before anyone was the wiser. But Anthony mentioned I had brought Smash Brothers. Admittedly the next couple of hours were quite a lot of fun for me. I got to finally play Greg smash which has been on my to-do list for months. Additionally someone we were playing was really damn good. Kicking ass with a Wii U Gamepad is not something to be taken lightly.
Finally a few party goers decided it was time to leave. Their departure was a bit like the first kids to breach from the walls at Prom. Their step out into the center of the floor that permission to the whole that now, at last, we can all dance. This came around the same time that everyone had their fill of smashing. I packed it up, said my adieus, and was on my way. Naturally I got lost because I made the foul mistake of assuming that anywhere in California has proper signage or reasonable road designs. We were momentarily lost before finally getting back on the 405.
Which brings us full circle to the shitstorm that is driving in California. On the way home someone left their entire bumper in the carpool lane. More accurately only about half of it. But the fact remains that a fucking bumper was covering a solid third or more of the carpool lane. It was a dark red bumper and basically invisible until you are right up on it. I only missed it out of luck. It woke me up which I suppose is nice.
That’s the kind of thing you’d never see in Bremerton. Washington might be cold (which I like) and rainy (which I love) and even grey (which I really love) but they know how to clean the damn road. They don’t just take the car away, glance back at the chunks of it left in the street and say “Eh, probably not a big deal.”
Not a bad day overall. Gonna try and get a little more witcherin’ in before the next workweek begins.