Grandma Peach has a pacemaker and two bad knees and still has more chutzpah than these two.
Sister and I decide to plan activities for our parents' big California visit. If you organize a day then parents feel obligated to participate.
The Getty is a fine way to show the beauty of LA and cater to our parents' taste. Pops loves to look at static, yet historic monuments. Mama digs scenic walks and when pops is content. Perfect.
Thank you sister for swallowing your distaste for all things ancient and historical.
Poor thing got taken to the Getty Villa on some cruel joke. The place is chocked full of statues of men throwing discs with leaves covering their dainty junk. This person obviously had never met my sister.
This is also the perfect opportunity to play papa-paparazzi. I am in possession of a fantastic film SLR camera that has only been collecting dust.
So we pack ourselves into sister's car and Pops and I sing along to the Beatles while sister tries to ignore the vein pulsating in her forehead.We wander around the grounds on the pristine day. The skyline was actually visible due to a surprising lack of smog. I shoot every inch of it pretending to know how to adjust the lens.
I haven't used a film camera since about 1995. Pops is a former professional photographer. Now he is just the most anal person to ever take a picture.
He helped me find the right aperture and didn't even make fun of me for loading my first spool of film wrong. So much for documenting my trip to the Japanese gardens.
The Getty is beautiful.
There are some solid impressionist pieces, my personal favorite. The traveling exhibit was phenomenal. Irving Penn is a rad dude. Anyone that can see a photographic opportunity with an overweight man selling chamois in the street is alright in my book.
Now that I set the scene for our lovely outing, let me say we tried to leave the Getty at 5:00 p.m. Sister wanted to jump on the 405 to get home.
For those of you who don't realize what this foolhardy attempt means, I would rather wait in line at the DMV all day than sit in bumper to bumper traffic with my darling family.
Driving with Pops as a passenger is like bringing a seven-year-old on a road trip.
This is where things go downhill.
I tell her to avoid the 405. Dad starts babbling about needing to find food as soon as possible. Sister yells that she doesn't know how else to get home and that we will be meeting her boyfriend in two hours for a nice meal. Dad informs her that he must eat something now. Mom backs him up talking about low-blood sugar and needing sustenance.
The pitch in sister's voice starts to escalate.
Jill the trusty BMW guide leads us to a closed entrance ramp for the 405. Sister has the navigation system, so she never bothered to learn the streets anywhere in the city.
Sister's voice starts to rise. I sense the tone.
sister: "I don't know where we are, so if you want to tell me side streets to get home, then tell me."
me: "Tell me where we are and I will tell you how to get home. I own a map."
sister: "I don't know where we are, Katee."
Dad (clicking away on his phone): "Hey, I found a Burger King nearby. We can get food there."
sister: "Dad, I need to figure out where we are going."
me: "Dad, not the time."
Mama tries to calmly explain that we will find food after we figure out how to get home.
We navigate through a quiet residential neighborhood. We maneuver through busy streets. Jill leads us into the thick of traffic. The flow of traffic gets denser. We pull onto the thick of traffic on Centinela. We are stopped.
Damn you, Jill.
Pops starts to complain about stopping anywhere, just any gas station for food. Mama warns sister to not make a turn around in this heavy of traffic, voice strained. I am looking at sister. Her voice is tense. I apologize for not telling sister to take Barrington as we sit in traffic. Sister tells me to fuck off. I hum to the Beatles. Dad gets antsy about his food choices. Mama goes on once again about low-blood sugar.
me: "I swear, if you two make her stroke out and we have to be in THAT car stopped in the middle of traffic, I am going to be more than pissed."
Sister stops at 7-eleven and we all evacuate the car. Sister dials boyfriend alone in the car.
me: "Hey dad, I want these chips okay?"
Pops (to the cashier): "How fresh is your hotdog?"
We made it home in about an hour and a half. Glad to say we made it home safely and in time for dinner.
sister: "Is that what you guys are wearing?"
Needless to say, there were no more excursions for this visit.
