A Few Trip Highlights

Day 2:

Driving in Monterey. Taking an exit (which is two lanes) off of the main road to get to Cannery Row.

Mom: (screams) Pull over. You’re going to get hit!

Me: (screams) What? What? What? Where?

Dad: (yells) She’s not going to get hit. She’s exiting.

Me: I had my own lane.

Mom: I didn’t see that. But that car.

Dad: The car had its own lane too. Cardelia, you don’t have to scream.

Me: She terrified me with her screaming.

Mom: I looked up at the wrong time.

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Minutes earlier, dad was nothing short of surly, saying things like "I don’t know why we’re here. There’s nothing to do. What are we going to do here? There’s nothing at Cannery Row."

The problem? No coffee. My solution? Buy coffee. His reaction? Sullen stubbornness and outright refusal to get coffee. Me? Hungry, but knowing that crankypants would be too impatient to sit through me eating anything (especially after storming out of the coffee shop saying he didn’t want anything), I denied myself. Instead, I bought him coffee to go. He was much better after that.

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After driving for an hour through Big Sur, the stress of driving through Big Sur with my parents in the car became too much. I handed Dad the keys. Everything was much better after that.

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Once we checked into our hotel in Cambria, we started the process of finding a place to eat. Dad located a place that served Chicken Fried Steak. Needless to say, he was in. We went there, and much to our surprise, the Sow’s Ear was quite upscale. In fact, it may have been the ritziest place in town. My dad paid three times what he’s ever paid for a chicken fried steak. I split a delicious chicken dish with my mom. We even got dessert. That’s what he gets for insisting on Chili’s for my birthday dinner. Touche!

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Day 3:

After nap time, we headed down to San Luis Obispo. Dad wanted to go somewhere, and I thought that might be a good "somewhere". Knowing that he’s picky and puts up a stink about everything, I had him read about SLO and have the final say on whether or not it would be a worthwhile trip. He agreed. We went to SLO. As I pulled into my parking spot, the following conversation took place.

Dad: Why are we here anyway?

Me: Because you wanted to go somewhere, and I thought this might be a nice place.

Dad: Is there anything to do here? I don’t know why we’re here.

Me: I don’t know either. It might be fun to walk around.

Dad: If we don’t have anything to do here, why are we parking.

Me: (silent)

Dad: (silent)

Me: (turning to Dad) I’m sorry I can’t make this more fun to you. I’m doing the best I can here, but you’re not helping.

As we walked through the streets of downtown San Luis Obispo, I stopped talking to my parents. Halfway through our 1 hour stay, I chose to speak to him again. Once in the car, I apologized for being rude (though he and I both should be happy that I walked 2 blocks ahead of him because I really just wanted to say "F-- you". Those fighting words don’t leave much room for reconciliation. Alone time was needed). All was forgiven, and we had a very nice evening.

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Back at the ranch, er, hotel, we had dinner. With the hotel reservation, we got a free dinner for two. Since there were three of us, one of us would have to pay. That person was my mom because she got the cheaper dish. Our waiter was lacking in finesse. He stumbled over to our table with his arms crossed and slumped over the extra chair. For about two seconds, I thought he might be "special" or stoned. As it turned out, he was just an idiot. Here are some the more choice things he said:

Waiter: Okay, so I see there are three of you, and that means one of you will have to pay.

Dad: Yes.

Me: Yeah, we figured as much.

Waiter: So, here’s the deal. You get 2 entrees and a bottle of wine for free. Appetizers, salads, and dessert are extra.

Family: Okay.

Waiter: So, the wine is our house wine. We have Cabernet, Chardonnay, and Viognier. Or, if you want to order from the menu, we’ll take $7 off the cost.

Me: (looking at my beer-drinking father and non-drinking mother) I think we’ll be fine with the Cabernet.

Waiter: (looking disappointed) Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, it’s the house wine, so that’s never a good sign. But, it does come from Castoro, so it’s not terrible. But, you know.

Me: So, what would you recommend?

Waiter: I don’t drink wine, so I don’t recommend any of it.

Later, he seated a young-ish couple. He explained the whole included dinner to them and offered them $8 off a bottle of wine. Yoinks!

When he gave us our bill, he wrote, in hand, what he wanted as a tip. My dad took one look at it and said, "I was going to give him more than that, but knowing that his expectations are low, I’ll just give him what he requested."

There was a table of 6 sitting next to us. When the waiter brought their check, he said, "You know, you guys were a lot of trouble for me. It took me forever to figure out this check and split it up. The least you could do is throw me an extra couple of bucks for my effort."

And finally, a British family was sitting at another table near us. When he heard that she was British, he said, "Are you from England?"

"I am." She replied.

"Wow. I’m gonna go to England sometime, so you could teach me a thing or two." She looked at him curiously. "So, all I know how to do in England is go to the bathroom." The woman looked horrified. "Yeah, you call it ’the loo’, right?"

The woman laughed "Yes, we do. And you should know that in England, men don’t wear pants."

Now the waiter was horrified. "What?"

She smiled, "No. They wear trousers."

I think I learned some valuable lessons about earning tips.

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Day 4:

Not much to say about today. We went to Paso Robles and took a little winery tour. It was fun. Dad found a quasi-chain restaurant for lunch. Then, it was his day to plan. That can only mean one thing. Heavy driving. We drove endlessly. He found a lovely, windy road for us. An hour and a half in, I inquired about a restroom. Apparently, it was 50 miles away. I was busy being a carsick trooper when my mom decided we needed to find me a restroom. Dad instructed her to take another road back to the 101. Then he told us that he had to change his lodging plans because we were going off-track. We were halfway to King City when I looked at the map and noticed that a restroom could have been found at the Pinnacle National Monument that was only 15 miles from where we turned off the road. Nobody wanted to hear it. We got to a gas station, used the facilities, and bought some oreos. Once we made it to Salinas (the delightful town in which I’m about to lay my head), Dad revealed to us that he needed to go to the bathroom the whole time we were on his scenic road. In fact, he was feeling a little desperate for a bathroom, but he used me as his scapegoat. Nice.

I never realized how much blame transference goes on in my family. When driving, they both give me directions, I follow them, and then when we get lost, they say "Why did you do that? I told you to go the other way." Real cool.

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So, that’s the update on my odyssey. It’s actually been pretty fun, but I’m tired. Exhausted. I can’t wait to go home and sleep on my futon (because my parents are sleeping on my bed). I’m also a little panicked about all the things I have to do when I go home. You know...taxes, wine education, fun facts about the city of San Francisco, changing my rear tire on my bike, acquiring camping equipment before Friday, driving back down the coast for a triathlon camping trip. Stuff.