Danger’s Global Warming Warning

Let me just say that this holiday season was anything but a normal holiday season. 

One reason? Possibly my decision to relocate from Chicago (the burbs, let’s not get ahead of myself) to Silver Lake LA CA between Christmas and NYE Twenty12.  Hmm or maybe it was that it was warm and ice-less enough to take a run on Christmas in the burbs. Either way, it just didn’t feel much like Christmas.

Either Chicago was onto me and gave a solid persuasive attempt to keep me or that thing that Al Gore and my college chemistry teacher kept talking about is happening.

Global warming?

Global warning?

As I packed up some essential cooking utensils and favorite mugs I also packed on some pounds-That run was the last run I took.

After that it was a 2,000 mile drive down route 66. The submission to all the roadside food and kitschy Americana I could get. And a week of getting acquainted and dining out LA style with tour guide Danger.

Which is proving dangerous for my beach figure.

My habits and location are now a global warming warning for my figure.

St. Louis, Missouri. First stop. 2:30pm. Local Harvest café. Blocks down from my old digs. Good food. Good people. Smoker out back. Sold.

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Midnight. Nothing was open. Pizza Hut? It was a blurr but whatever it was, I needed. Some sleep. Some continental breakfast. 

Amarillo, Texas. Midday. Golden Light Café. Apparently the slaughter house of our nation, Amarillo served up a mean burger which I washed down with a Lone Star beer. The place was classic. I could spit on the line behind the bar. The only waitress thanked locals for Christmas gifts as they walked in. Sweet Child of Mine, Jack and Diane, and Mary Jane’s Last Dance played on the barely audible gloveless cook’s 1992 radio. Apparently no health regulations followed in international territories-The Lone Star State. Popped in and out of the antique lined street and jumped back into the car.

 Pit stop. Gas station coffee. Necessary after a midday beer and lots of driving.

Albuquerque, New Mexico. Late. Kelly’s Brewpub. Wanted some authentic Mexican but it felt like Albuquerque was trying to prove that it was more than chilies. Quinoa concoction, some of pop’s pulled pork and a house made red lager. I wasn’t in the Midwest anymore. Cool place. Cute accents. Crazy, great houses.

 

 

Santa Fe, New Mexico. Mid morning. I felt like I walked into a past time. Explored the culture of this old world, beautiful town with a latte in hand.

 

 

 

Navajo land. I bought a blanket. Be jealous. 

It’s amazing and so is the man who sold it to me. 

 

 

...And then there was Geronimo.

Flagstaff, Arizona. Evening.

Oh no. Problems occurred. Altitude of 6,900.

Authentic, college hipster vibe of good beer and good coffee. Beaver street brewery served up some artsy goodness. Which was later served up by me. Needless to say, not as good tasting the second time. Even worse, only room available was a hostel style room without a bathroom. Going down to the toilet paperless lobby bathroom half delusional at 3am was less than ideal.
Macy’s coffeehouse for breakfast. Not my finest hours. But real good granola, yogurt and fruit breakfast. Couldn’t do coffee. That’s how bad I felt. It didn’t even smell good. Now you know how unfortunate this event was. I’d still go back to flagstaff. 

 

 Sedona, Arizona. Midmorning. After my illness and lack of shower, the streets were mocking me. I was dirtier than they will ever be. Sparkling town. Caters a bit much to high-end tourists. Fried cactus helped get me back on my road food track. Too preoccupied with nausea to truly enjoy the town but the red rocks looked a lot nicer on the way out of the town than they did on the way in. Maybe it was the cacti help.

 

 

Santa Monica, California. Late. Pizza again. I needed a shower and to not move.

The next morning started with a coffee on venice beach. “Good” microbrew down from my new digs in Silver Lake. And a late night diner experience at Swingers diner.

…the week following the road food continued onto include: Malibu fishery, barbeques in Topanga Canyons, In-and-Out burger on Ventura, horchata at an authentic taqueria down the hill from my place, An intoxicating experience at Musha in Santa Monica...

And the list goes on and on. And on.

One can get any food one wants in this town.

And not only is my global location a warning but so is my ability to fit into these clothes I hauled 2,000 miles.

Today I decided to be healthier. I took a hike in Malibu and picked an orange off a tree by my mailboxes. I’m going to try living off this global land and see where it gets me.

So far it’s gotten me west, up the hill from Sunset Blvd and a view of the Hollywood sign.