7 Days

Day 1
Hurry and get the supplies, it's the Dawgs and the Tide, part 2!  Let's Hunker Down!
Hey, looking good at halftime!  Course, we've been there before.
She's seems warm?  Maybe it was the dinner last night?  She seems fine otherwise.
Oh man, here it comes.  It's happening again.  Bama is Bama...oh well.
She's not well?  OK, I'll come home, but we'll watch the 2nd game there and--
Let's just go to urgent care.
You're not sure?   Look at her.  There's nothing?  All I'm doing is keeping her mind off it.

Day 2
Well, you've got to check in to the bathroom before anything.  I know it hurts.  I'm here.
No, I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you.  Just relax, we'll get through this.
Try to eat this, if not, that's fine.
Well, maybe we should go back to urgent care, because this isn't working.
She does seem fine, but this is the lull, you have to believe me.
Let's try this.  Can you sleep?  I know, but you need the rest.

Day 3
Checking in to see how she is.  The same?  OK, I'll get supplies.  She has to be miserable.
Look, if the doc says to ease into the usual food, why not?
Oof, ok that didn't work.
We can do the same tomorrow.  Just keep me posted.
Sleep good, we'll get over it.

Day 4
I know she should stay home, but can she go out?  Let's go to the doc.
Her personality is completely different, Doc, but I would too if...
No, they're still in there.  You can hear she's in pain; anything for that?  Anything?
I gotta go back to work, but please let me know how she is.
I'll stay here in the morning.  You're so tough.  We're going to get through this.

Day 5
Yup, I'm here all morning.  Yeah, we're getting better, aren't we?!
I know, but you if you can eat this and everything is good, then we'll try other stuff.
No, can't do mac n cheese.
OK, gotta go to work.  See you in a bit.
Budget cuts?  I'm sorry, I wasn't ready if...are you sure?
I'm sorry, it's just that this has been a hard week.
Fuck it I'm going home for the day.

Day 6
I'm trying hard not to say bad words or the wrong thing, but do you know what this means?
Don't you like it when life is normal?  Why can't it be normal?  And...what does that mean?
Man, that rain is coming down.  Hoo wee. 
Wait, is that a squirrel eating our Halloween pumpkins?
Hold on, I'll get it.  Stay inside. 
Tomorrow, we'll go places and stuff.  I'll check my work from now and then.

Day 7
Well you do seem better.  OK, let's get stuff at the library.  No, we have to go here first.
I can tell you're feeling better because you're trying to boss me all over.  Knock it off.
I said tell me about Christmas presents but I'm not getting you anything.
If I get you that, you're gonna lose it, and I'm out $5.  Remember what I said on Wednesday?
Come on, let's go.  Hey, watch out!  Pay attention to your surroundings!
How much is that?  Christ, listen to me...sure, OK.
(Sigh)  Yeah, the weekend.  Well, you're back on it.  You really want a cheeseburger? 
Tomorrow?  OK, tomorrow.  This has been quite a week. 
Getting better.  Didn't know we had to, huh?

My friends say no, don't go for that cotton candy

Finding myself in such a tense moment, I saw immediately that the left and right sides of the ridge had to continue to be watered.  The shrub in the middle was weak anyway, and we let that go.  My adrenaline was increasing, but it went tandem with the moment.  Holding the line, hoping to delay the sparks.

Then I woke up.

 

Last weekend, I was 35 miles from fire destruction moving at an unrelenting pace.  35 miles wasn't shit.  We were all stuck inside (lest you think you're some big timer who could go out for lunch and set aside your headache, eyes watering, awful throat, and depression).  35 miles and for all I knew I was surrounded by webers full of pall malls.  Thanks to the firefighters, it was a slow fade to Sunday night, which was deemed "tolerable" and colder nights, which "help" insomuch it's not 80 degrees at that time.

 

And true, this isn't the first rodeo; in 2003 the fire in San Diego blew up here and made a run of fall days look like a permanent 5PM.  Even last year, I opined that the Verdugo mountain fires had no way of hitting my domicile because it would have to cross a freeway, train track, and "river" to get over here and...

 

Oh, fires can do that?  Well color me a fucking simpleton for being so caviler to think I could out-smart the beast.  The very definition of dumb luck, there's now talk of "here are the masks" and "this looks like a good indoor air purifier and ionizer" without a trace of irony or what-are-the-odds inflection.

 

I've lived here long enough to see the changes.  Santa Ana winds were expected in the fall.  Now they're more of a year-round intruder.  The winds could bring a possibility of a wildfire.  Now we know there will be one, just a matter of location and size.  We used to have a rainy season, without fail.  Now some years it rains, but most are barely moist.  Rain used to be met with gritted teeth knowing your drive.  Now there's dancing in the streets.  Holy shit, it's raining!

 

The hurricane, the snowstorm, the tornado, it arrives, it devastates, it leaves.  The wildfire?  It isn't leaving.

"I Owe You Nothing!"

As a topic that's been conveyed in various ways on this blog, a lesson learned is to not get overly involved in your favorite sporting team's fortunes.  This is a rule that I've been able to apply to nearly all sports-related aspects of my life, and it's occurred with great success.  Life, on the whole, has fewer man-made pitfalls.

And then there's my fandom of the Dodgers, which for some reason has avoided this trend.  I actually thought I had applied it, but when you run into people who are like-minded (intentionally or otherwise), I find old habits die hard.

Maybe it's the great success that does this...or the sense of community.  I don't know.  What I DO know is that I was at a "party" on Saturday which was decidedly not a party for the World Series, but the hosts were kind enough to turn on the game for those intrigued.  Even the most casual baseball fans surrounded me to watch.  Then a lady entered the room.

"Oh!  Who's playing?"

I think I did a sensational job by saying, in a calm and measured tone, that this was the World Series, and the hometown team was playing game 4.  In the intervening hour, Dick Mountain was doing his thing, and apparently I was an ebullient and humorous individual.

Later on into the evening, Dave Roberts wanted to revisit the warm glow of "Red Sox Hero" and he...well, you know what he did.   I got up and left the room.  I wasn't angry (well, overly angry), but I was more than anything disappointed.  Bewildered.

A woman who's only known me a few months said "Oh no.  Yeah, I can see it in your face.  It's not good."  Holy Moly...that's the vibe I'm giving off here?!  The anger, the disappointment, the frustration...that's truly on me.  The over-investment didn't pay off?  Well that doesn't feel good, does it?

When was the last time I felt this way?  Well, it wasn't after the NFL playoffs, or National Championship, so I must have been doing something right, or at least better, at the time.  It was...well, it was the 2017 World Series.  

Dialing it back.  More often than not, good advice in every situation.  "Funny" I guess, that it took two gut punches for me to realize I was not completely free with my lowered engagement.  There's wood to chop, there's deals to me made, can't we do it with a clear head?

The Rams won.  Great!  Will they lose?  Probably; got some good competition coming up.  Inevitable...that's how it goes.  (breath)  Ahhhh.  

The Electricity is in the Upheaval

(Trip Darvez once again shares a column from his archives of writing from the L.A. Reader, this from September 24th, 1981)

When you work the streets (or hell, even walk them) on a daily basis, things don't change suddenly...but stop paying attention, even if you're planted right in the middle of the zoo, and you suddenly look around: what in the???  There's another comedy club?  Oh...sure, they have a "New Wave Night" - OK...huh, another mini-mall on the way over there...

 

L.A.'s own Go-Go's "This Town" was playing over the speakers when I entered The Whisky last week, and in hitting me like a ton of bricks was the fact that the band, just 1 year ago, was selling out this place, and the Whisky itself was now, very slowly, looking around going "Oh....got it."  And here we are.

 

I began a recent day (notice how he's withholding information-ed.) rolling out of bed, enjoying a beer and watching Lost in Space reruns with an earthy girl whose attempts to replace the "food" in my kitchen with jicama were politely tolerated.  Later in the day, after some in-between respites at Sun Bee liquor, I happily weaved throughout the Strip with nearly every club playing live rock from bands that were in the least passable, and best, fantastic.   Brother, I don't mind telling you that, if asked on the spot the day after that Go-Go's show a year ago the future would be that drastic, different, and (in most respects) better, I wouldn't have believed it.  Hell, we were to happy to point out our future enemies to our new friends all the while lamenting the residue of roller disco.  (And no, there were no earthy girls in my place a year ago, either.  Not sure if that's good or bad.)

 

None of these bands were chasing the past, either.  This is a path forged anew, with most stepping aside and nodding, while a few toss their roller skates in the closet, and wonder if they should pick up racquetball.

 

Chrissie said "That's showbiz, big boy.  You've got to be cruel to be kind."  I think we are in this paper, and I think a lot of club owners throughout town are now acting, with too many reacting, to trends.  Things move fast for them, because, as I've announced, when you don't look around each day, you miss what's happening.

The Bad News Bugs

Just have fun...don't take it seriously...it's about getting exercise...they'll be our new friends...let's see how it goes...

At a field near the airport, we entered a crowded mass of families: dozens of kids wearing a rainbow of colors, the parents all set with lawn chairs, tents, blankets, snacks.  And then there was our team...a crew who had as much familiarity as a random meeting in the park to toss the ball around.  

Drills were introduced, but only as a guide.  It's about effort, really.  I don't care if you went around the cone, just look at her trying.  You're not walking away, you're not saying you're bored.  I call that an accomplishment. 

Then we looked across the field.  Damn - when did they have time to make a banner?!  That's cool.  I know we talked about making one, but look.  They have matching bows, too.  And...wait a minute, there's no way that kid is in this age group.  This is a ringer.  Right, right.  We don't keep score.  I know.  Hey, let's have fun!

 

A huddled mass, the same as discussed by the Statue of Liberty, they move to and fro.  Bodies occasionally fall, conversations begin in the middle of a game on the field.  Distractions as minimal as a dragonfly occur, and even "out of bounds" has a loose definition.

 

It's her turn to sit out and be a "cheerleader."  She was eating a watermelon slice when the Bugs went up 1-0.  I know, we're not keeping-  "I scored."  Hey, why not?

 

The only yelling is to get your own offspring to notice that the ball went behind them, or to notice everyone else is on the other end of the field.  The rest of the time is spent in laughter.  Not the players - the families ourselves.  This is all utterly hilarious...but are we laughing at the sight?  At ourselves for placing any kind of weight behind this endeavor?  At the concept?  Maybe we're just giddy.  After all, the sun broke out right as the game started and now we're all at the mindset of "that's enough, don't you think?"

 

The biggest reaction came from the snack bag received in the post-game high five round-up.  Snacks are what life is all about?  Well, I agree.  Don't take that jersey off unless you want to.  Yeah, I say you let everyone know you were making it happen out there.  If the only win/loss measurement is fun, how can you lose?   

Only if there are no snacks.  Keep the snacks coming, folks.

Not Yet

Despite the weighted responsibility in molding today's minds for tomorrow, you can work with every fiber in your being to make a great person.  Someone with only your best qualities, the qualities you wish you had but don't, and the entertaining qualities that might get you confused looks from people like teachers or...anyone else.

A certain former late night talk show host stated, and I'm paraphrasing, that he was excited to have a son because "he'll be just like me, he'll like 90% of the things I do, and he'll sit right next to me and not talk.  And oh, was I wrong."  To that extent, all I can do is continue to enjoy the things I do and then not help but be bewildered on what, of all things, connect.

I've written 3-4 metaphors and I can't come up with anything but the truth in that hearing the soundtrack to National Lampoon's Vacation hit.  So you enjoy the songs only so long until the audience starts to ask questions.  What's happening when this is on?  A 1-line answer doesn't suffice at this age.

"Can I see the movie?"

No...someday, but no.  It's for older people.

"But are there parts I can see?"

Sure!  Let me...(oh shit, what did I just do)

Explaining this to anyone else in the general public isn't the kind of thing that makes an overflowing pool of friends, but you'd be surprised to find who is caught off guard by this development, enjoys the trip down memory lane, and in conclusion, does not judge you.  And why not?  

Dinner time arrives, and when asked what music would be the preference, I'm told "Smooth Jazz."  Not by any adult.  Smooth Jazz, each and every time, and while that means most meals sound like someone left the TV on the Welcome Channel at an 1980s hotel, so be it. 

This is going to change, you know.  There will be some thing, almost certainly media-related, that will be undoubtedly current and modern, that she and I will both like...and there will be even more that she likes and I think is awful.  It's how it goes. 

But between you and me: if she genuinely enjoys watching current commercials, why won't she watch old commercials...with me?!

Hell Breaks Loose

After the dogs n burgers went down on the 4th, and fireworks properly viewed and enjoyed, the return to work brought only the most cursory conversation that it was going to be hot over the weekend.  "Did you hear?  100 on Friday.  Wait...it might be hotter.  Is that for here?"

Leading into the day, it was accepted and/or assumed that it was going to be 105; a stark contrast from the 4th, but it's Summer...that's how it goes.   Then Friday arrived.

Holy shit.

Shit.

You know when you open the oven to take out a pizza or whatever?  Imagine that outside.  Well, I wasn't imaging it, and it couldn't be that unusual.  I've driven to Las Vegas in June, ate in Baker at sundown when the world's largest thermometer was triple digits.  So...wait, is it me or is it getting hotter?

115

I tried to cool down inside, but the indoor temp kept rising, too. Well of course it is...you can't win this fight. It was around this time that I went briefly outside to watch the plants die that I noticed quite the problem: the AC wasn't moving...but the fan was on inside which means...HEY! This'll be fun to fix!

SHIT

Checking circuits, switching shit, waiting for a thunderbolt to fall from the sky to save me or impart me with knowledge...none of it arrived. Temperatures were rising HAHA

It was like no euphemism I can think of to get the caravan west to the beach in the evening. It wouldn't be repaired until tomorrow, so let's cool it down - even in the dark. No surprise that we weren't alone in that feeling, the San Diego Freeway busier than usual for a Friday night with plenty Happy Brakes out there...but I made it to the PCH and even the salt air was cooking. I slept like a fallen log.

I drove back to Heat City and the solace of my neighbor's, awaiting the repair man while everyone else sipped drinks in pools right and left.

Of course, it was very quickly fixed, I was given an education, gave the guy some extra cash (because I'm a compassionate man who also was very happy to have AC) and it was taco time. Didn't mean the house was cool yet, but after the updated supplies from Ralphs, I was reportedly found relaxing on the couch, Pacifico in koozie, watching the Dodgers give Anaheim a few pointers. (Ross Stripling is going to throw a...well, look at that, strike 3. Next?)

By Sunday morning everything was "normal" inasmuch it was "only" 98, but damn near 20 degrees cooler is damn near 20 degrees cooler. After a minute out of the pool, it was all I could do to amble home, look at my dead plants, and rationalize my life with "at least the beer is cold."

The Longest Day

It was 5AM (or so I was told).  "Can I watch something?"  I stumbled out and damn near collapsed on the slumber party mattress.  "Today is the longest day!"

Already, this early, I think you're right.

Make bacon as fast as possible, essentially ignored as I leave home.  Off to show up when others don't.  Wait, wait...eh, fuck it.  Gotta go to the mill.

Meetings cancelled, time for reflection.  This will be a full day in terms of sun...let's try to keep it otherwise. 

Deals discussed.  A few laughs, nod in agreement.  Off to get sun.  And to think, on this very spot yesterday, I ate what was reported to be dinosaur meat.  (Not as gamey as I anticipated, but not that tender, either)  After more wood was chopped, I returned to view the horizon.  The sun was unrelenting, though an ocean breeze kept it cool. 

In-between bites of a Cuban sandwich I reminded all that there was much left to do with all this sun.  So we headed home and pet dogs for a while.

Goof and more goof, then a fleeting look outside brought an already-set sun.  Check it out...let's hang on.  To what, specifically?  The feeling.

It was dusk...I laid down and she sang me a tune.  The sun doesn't stay long in southern states, it's true.  We boogie on after dark.

You can't get what you want 'till you know what you want

This is it.  We're at the "it's not if but when" stage of Ol Bess.  After the mechanic did the last, needed repairs, he sighed and said "It runs."  Wow, thanks.  So, time to really look and get that new car.  Or new to me.  Whatever, I don't care.

That's an honest problem: I don't care.

Well...I DO care, you know.  It's just...in the words of Keith Levene, "I only know what I don't like."  But as for what it should be, what are the options?  Near everything?  OK...um...

There are sales.  Drive-a-thon.  April Showers of Savings.  Memorial Day.  Sell-abration.  Even "I know a guy who..."

An unidentified man is asked in the landmark album Chains and Black Exhaust his most important factors in choosing a car at the auto show.  "It's the color, man, and the monthly payments."  Amen.  At work, my office window faces the Hollywood Freeway from a high distance, and here's what I see, oh, 90% of the time: White, Silver/Grey, Black.  Over and over, an endless Raiders parade.  Occasionally a red car sticks out...but that's it.  Shit, when I got Ol Bess, Black was so UNPOPULAR that Saturn didn't even have a basic black car.  They had "Blackberry" which I took...and I noticed with a little grime, it was 100% black.

Where was I...right, the sniff.  I just saw 5 silver/grey cars cross the freeway simultaneously.  Damn, do people not care about this anymore?  Is it only me?

How are we doing for the following colors, car companies?
Goldenrod
Sunset Dusk
Sunset Musk
Horizon
Burnt Sienna
Burnt Orange
Powder Blue
Chevy Vans with murals painted on the sides
Red with non-optional racing stripe

Do the features include "power" options?  Is the interior plush?  Is cruise control standard?  Is there an antenna?  A USB port?  Does it seat passengers "comfortably?"  Can the navigation screen be changed to reruns of Hardcastle & McCormick?  

This is California.  This'll be easy, just you see.  (silently continues to convince himself of that fact)

Spread Thin

I remember when I used to have a lot of time on my hands...so much so that I'd just shrug my shoulders and wander around town.  I'm sure this sent those around me into some concern, but those times would (on occasion) bring some genuine excitement into my life though the means of discovery.  Stumbling into gold is a hell of a lot more fun than reading reviews online and getting your hopes up.

Nowadays, due to circumstances I did and did not create, there is precious little time like the above...at least for now, of course.  And even when that time arrives, albeit much shorter a range, I know the opportunity will be met with an immediate review: what did you do with that time?  It's an annoyance, to be sure.  You're being bossed around afterwards, so to speak, but there is a layer underneath all that: did you make the best of it?

So you do some shit alone that, one immediately notices, takes little time at all because you're not with "helpers" or other sloth-like distractions.  Now...what?  There ain't shit on TV.  You're on the computer at work enough, so...let's work on that garage.

I don't believe in "caves" just like I don't believe in bachelor parties, because if someone is suggesting that in this life I get one room for "my stuff" or one night for "me" because the rest of life will be a vicious landscape, then I wouldn't go down this path.  Instead, I sought to seek a space on the property that, under no circumstances would anyone but me voluntarily want to hang out for long periods of time.  This hit me around the time when I entered the hardware store, took in the smell in there (a smell that reeks of "let's do shit") that it was perfectly fine by me.  All I need is a beer fridge, and that'll do.

Wait a minute...is this insanity?  Look at this guy, drinking beer in an garage on a warm night...yikes.  Well, let us imagine that that very guy was happy in that element.  Comfortable in his own skin.  A completed decision.  Thankfully, it turns out I was not alone.  Former Pacific Gold writer Steve Simpson said I was actually behind on this development: it's your own personal break room.  I hunger just thinking about it.  And so it shall pass.

(My dream, of course, is a room full of flashing lights and keyboards, like those "computer rooms" or "headquarters" from 70s and 80s movies...levers and buttons, and I have a Mr. Microphone.  In a pinch, this alternative will suffice.)

I see my long term future not having to do this activity much, if at all.  But for now, I nurse the brew, look around, and nod the affirmative.  Enter these gates, and be happy.

You'll Get Nothing and Like It

Well, it's March, time for madness again

But I'm getting a little jaded about all of this.  The reason for this mentality is that, in each passing year, the very reason for why the tournament is as popular as it is slowly drains away.

I guess it actually began in another sport: college football.  They announce a playoff, however small, and I react positively.  Finally, everyone has a realistic shot at this.  Wait...there are 6 bowls involved?  Whatever, I don't care, as long...I'm sorry, "Power Conferences" is...what is that?

Well, what it is is the same lesson being told another way: there's a list of schools we care about.  The rest?  Get bent.  Oh, you're undefeated?  Don't care.  Ok, you can be in one of these 6 bowls, but not the playoff.  Hey, at least we let you in here, right?

March Madness was different.  Everyone in, and the love flowed.  Throughout my youth, seeding (which in the end doesn't matter) was appropriate on an agreed set of circumstances.  And every year, you'd get upsets.  Duke would lose tournament games in North Carolina and we'd rejoice.  Stephen F. Austin and Florida Gulf Coast would wear you down and make it happen.  Ohio would just plain beat the shit out of Georgetown.  I'd even get in the fun, especially when you'd sense a run (like George Mason) and ride the way in picks.  (A team former Pacific Gold writer Dave Blizznewski called Ghetto Magic)

But one time, a tournament started and I didn't make any picks.  No one really cared.  I just sat back and watched, hoping for upsets which didn't occur.  And another year...and another, and since I'm not ensconced in something that I'll foul up anyway, I cast my full gaze to the schools themselves.  I recognized nearly all of them, and this is in a day and age where my basketball viewing time is minimal.

A) We have the usual powers.
B) We have the small conference champions.
C) And we have this at-large pool where the committee would much rather have more schools from the A conferences and not the B.  Why?

As with many sports-related questions that are answered in opinion and not fact, I'm not told a reason.  One new answer I heard this week was "Hey, remember, this is a TV show!  You want the big names for big games!"  We can agree or disagree with that, and considering my former career and knowledge on the subject, it would be useless to tell another windbag how they got it wrong.  It's that the victories of schools from a B conference beating a school from an A conference is WHAT MADE THIS WHOLE THING POPULAR.

The first question people say when discussing the madness is "Who do you have winning the tournament?" - a statement that could cover any sort of athletic competition.  The second?  "What are your upsets?"  The NCAA will tolerate 1, maybe 2...and the rest that aren't upsets really (except in seed) help stir that talk.  Those lovable ratings.  But when those little old schools don't get to play...it's just another weekend in December with "key match-ups."

I'll be watching, of course.  I like basketball, and more importantly, entertaining basketball.  Sometimes I can even coax the Big Scoop to join me, even if the topic turns to uniform color.  It'll mean nothing to her, but I'll watch and think "you're killing what made this great for no reason other than the whims of a very, very few.  I wonder if I'm alone?"

Heat Shaming

Because it was lunchtime, I forced myself to go outside for a walk.  This normally would not be an achievement, but it was a shaky 58 degrees.  It's been that way all week, and will next week, too.  It's Winter, I know...but when the Old Man throws in a hearty gust o'wind as well, this isn't easy. 

So I'm ambling...not struggling, just dealing with it.  You know what load of dung then entered my mind?  (It was actually a tour bus that went by, and I could, at that moment, see what those out of towners were thinking)  "Ha!  You think this is cold?  This is nothing!  Hell, where we're from, you'd be knee deep in a concoction of snow, dirt, water, and gravel!  You gotta get tough!"

OK, but...

If you live here, in Dealville, this IS cold, you see.  Which...

What makes it so that 58 degrees with fun wind is normal to anyone?  Does a person's comfort zone only exist indoors?  I don't know that it's about "rights" and wrongs, and I know I'm not alone.  The scuttlebutt around the office on Tuesday was a guarded agreement that hoo wee, it got really cold, didn't it?  I'm cold.  You're cold, so we agree?  

In my youth, I don't remember ever hearing anyone say that outside, or inside for that matter.  It's been decades, so I could have easily deleted that memory.  Maybe it's too obvious?  Maybe "no shit" would be the answer, and no one wants to hear it.

(But, no one wants to hear from Dealville when it's glorious and others are letting the car warm up, either)

I see March from here.  The sun, basketball, a big stretch.  Lemme hear those horns.

Business (Of All Kinds) is Booming in Southwest Florida

(Editor's Note: Trip Darvez once again reaches into the archives for a very early column...perhaps his first.

"I visited a DJ I'd met at a convention, and I ended up submitting this to the Miami Phoenix newspaper...they turned me down, but when I moved to LA to work at KLAQ, I ended up submitting this to the LA Reader in 1980.  It was enough to get another audition and, eventually, being added to the staff.")

You start noticing it when you get off Interstate 75.  Signs everywhere: "Coming soon!  Lakeland South housing development!  Southwest Florida's newest golf 'community' with fine dining!"  Get closer to the beach, and they change their prose but not their enthusiasm: all major hotel chains are here, along with condos for the snowbirds with enticing names like "Pelican Cove" and "San Carlos Harbor Inn" and "Bayside Estates."  They're here, new, with more on the way.  The reason is that the first real domino fell: the highway, expansion, and all that planning gets everyone jumping.  The new airport will be ready by "the early '80s" (as many remind me) and with said Interstate going from the Canadian border, they're ready to welcome everyone down.

This vibe isn't held by just the tourists, either.  I figured the locals would resent this, but they've embraced it, all for their own reasons.

Building Up

Like Hawaii, this is an early-to-rise part of the world, so construction starts a half-hour early down here, and site manager Nelson Quinones says whatever the extra time might hit him in labor costs, things can get done a week or two early.  "That's really priceless."

We're walking around what will be called "Island Towers" which will be complete with "Sunset Views, Beachfront Fun, and a slice of Paradise!"  Estero Blvd. seemed like a main drag for the island offshoot, but it's connection on both sides is bringing everyone: supermarkets, restaurants, you name it.  For the locals, the ever-increasing amenities for day to day living now here outweigh having to put up with noisy trucks here and there.

"Building this up is really a combination of things.  You want things to blend in."  How does a building aptly named "Tower" blend in with the homes, all exclusively 1 story?  "Well, I could have gone bigger.  They're going to do that on the east side.  Look, 6 stories is not, you know, obscene.  We're not doing a huge parking lot as you'd guess.  But by doing it this way, it's..." (He smiles)  Exclusive?  "You're getting the language down now."  As they are, this whole stretch of Estero will be dotted with similar properties, with churn year round.  Nelson is just one of many here to strike.

"They're loading up!"

If Nelson ready to strike, Lowell Vera of Parkway Liquors is ready for the rush.  The street is actually called College Parkway, but Lowell figured he'd run into trouble if he called it "College Liquors."  Florida's liquor laws prevent hard liquor in supermarkets, but distance has nothing to do with it.  Many locations have a liquor store either in walking distance or conveniently attached...Lowell is here on his own, not far from a House of Pancakes and, if you're coming east, you'll see it before the 7-Eleven.  "I really thought when that went in, that's it for me."  A customer interrupts with a bag of ice and a 6 pack of beer.  "But I got food here...no Slurpees, but I ain't gonna hassle ya." 

"It used to be that we'd get some college kids, and people coming from Cape Coral over the bridge, but..." Lowell fishes out a Kent, tapping it on the counter as if to emphasize his point "the 7-Eleven didn't help, but the slow period, that's what I like to call the Summer, that was strictly locals...it's not as slow.  Lotta construction guys coming in here, even in the morning."

A lady (his wife?  fellow employee?  I never got to meet her and he never offered a name, so we'll never know) rotates and stacks more iced oatmeal cookies on the shelf.  "Some of these guys, they just showed up down here, it's their first time, they have directions but don't really know the area.  So they see us, and I swear they were getting stuff like they'd be out on the water for weeks.  These two guys, remember?  I see em just get a Styrofoam cooler and put it on the counter and just start getting 8-packs and bags of chips, beef jerkey, didn't say a word.  I turned one and said 'you're loading up' and he just smiled.  My kind of sale!"

A "Growth" Business

Having a good time is getting easier in this area.  The boats roam at night, so I've been told, and the daytime business keeps going.  It's the business of feeling good, and business is, well, getting better and better.

"Terry" is a man who makes that his business, and the demands of the business are starting to get in the way of those good times.  "Shit, yesterday...(he takes a long pull of a rum runner and a hit off a joint, so much so that I wasn't expecting him to continue) some of the girls we had in here started just talking and talking.  We'd brought in a shipment, and I spent a day with (names redacted) cleaning that shit.  I just need a day or two to relax.  You know?  And they were just talking and..."  Another drag, and a look off into the sunny sky.

All of this growth in the area is offering a lot of people the same chance: the moment to relax and take stock.  Yet, none of those seem to take the time to do so, whether there is the time, or not.  "I bet you could talk to guys on the east coast, and...well, maybe in..."  (rum runner swig, and a shake of the head)

Terry returned from his office with a store-bought Key Lime pie.  We were both hungry, so we went head first.  "The demand keeps going up" Terry says, removing a crumb from his mustache.  "All this stuff distracting me, ruining my buzz, but I run out of shit more and-"  (more singing by the girls he loathes)  "Would you guys can it already?  You know?"  The music is lowered and "Got it" is yelled back.

"I guess I'm getting to be known, we're moving it out.  It's all going to be legal soon...by 1980, you could probably get high at 7-Eleven."  We both laugh at an idea that, if he's right, isn't far fetched.  Just then, one of the girls comes over with hair that's (so I've been told) dyed blonde.  "It really hurts."  She followed this up with a laugh, and Terry just waved his hand.

I leaned back and wondered...all this change, people busy making it happen.  You can't help but wonder where it will take you (and everyone else) next.

The narrative moved, too

As a sports fan, it's never fun when things don't "go well."  But think about it: how often does it go well?  Is there a hard and fast definition of "going well?"  Don't things have to at least "go well" for you to take time our of your day to involve yourself in some way?

The Dodgers lose game 7.  Georgia loses in OT.  The Rams lose in the playoffs.  It might not have ended the way you wanted, but it was better than expected, wasn't it?  Does that constitute as "going well"?  Sure.  Outdoing your expectations validates your time, right?  It was worth it.

Or...so the thinking goes.

Each team of each sport knows this and thinks this way, too.  Shit, some of them have to because, for some employees, it's their job on the line.  So...if YOU'RE not thinking about the team that way, they'll do their best to get you on their side.  It's how they keep making money.  By not doing that, you can't even convince the hardcore fans all that money and time is worth it.

Now, if I'm talking about a team having to work overtime to keep fan interest (despite the play on the field), you know I'm talking about the Chargers.

The Chargers.  (allows moment for laughs to subside)  A team who bent over backwards to upset their loyal fanbase.  An owner who had no idea on how to use that fanbase to grow it's value.  A "new" fanbase that doesn't really seem to exist.  If it does, you wouldn't see them at their stadium.

A team that now is comfortable being a second fiddle, renting a stadium....until a larger, newer stadium can also be rented from another team.  How do you end up this way?  This decade tells you how: you're just good enough...how you keep people thinking it's about to get better, and how if it's not better now, it's so close to being better, you'd best stick around.  Right?  Hello?!

2010: Coming of a 13-3 season.  A team with the #1 offense AND defense...has 4 punts blocked, gives up 3 kick-offs for touchdowns.  A loss to Kansas City in Week 16, and they don't make the playoffs.  9-7.

2011: For those of us in LA who didn't have Sunday Ticket, you'd be stuck with shitty AFC West games at 1PM more often than not.  (It was this poor viewing audience that windbags would point to and say "see, LA doesn't care about football".)  A season where 3 of the division's teams are 8-8.  Denver wins the division, because the Chargers start 4-1, then slide with a 6 game losing streak.  2 home games are blacked out.  (Back when that kind of thing happened)   8-8.

2012: Typical Norv season.  Never really in it, 0-4 vs. NFC teams this season.  7-9.

2013: A new coach, a strong ending to the season, everyone else losing, so the Chargers make the playoffs!  Better yet, they WIN a playoff game.  A close loss to Denver in the divisional round, but it was a clear improvement.  See, fans?  Things are getting better.  We're looking forward to an even better 2014!  9-7.

2014: They start 5-1.  Look out!  Hey, are they gonna get a new stadium?  I bet if they keep playing good they'll...wait, did I just talk about finishing the season strong?  I did.  In 3 of their last 4 games, they fail to get more than 1 TD.  In week 17, its a win and get in game vs. Kansas City.  Guess how that went down.  9-7.

2015: The middle of the season sees a truly Chargers-style losing streak: 6 in a row.  What makes it Chargers-style?  The first 5 games lost during the streak are by 1 TD or less.  That new stadium talk has swiftly been replaced with moving.  A bad team, bad record, fans hear this news and don't show up.  All this cannon fodder for the owner.  All to see...the team have to stay?  4-12.

2016: A fanbase who has been told the team has one foot out the door anyway (all the while crying poor) sees a 5-6 start end with an artistic 5 game losing streak.  As the caption read before the Week 17 game in San Diego (the last time, for the last time) before a half-full stadium  "This is what being dicked around looks like."  5-11

2017: Hey, we moved!  Not too far away.  And it's...OK, it's a soccer stadium, but look!  We're here, LA!  What?  Oh yeah, another team came here first.  And they play in the big stadium, and they played here for a long time.  But we're here, too! 

An 0-4 start, a stadium on the small side of "MACtion" with empty seats and those filled usually by fans of the other team, and the welcome never shows.  After the bye, the team goes 6-2 (beating only 1 playoff team, and that was the week the Bills decided their back-up might be a good idea).  But those two losses?  To actual playoff teams.  They need "help" to get in and don't get it.  9-7, the eternal Chargers record.

So what's the headline, buried on the site?

"After 0-4 start, Chargers finish strong and build momentum for 2018."

The narrative never changes.  Good start, bad ending, bad start, good ending.  Next year?  Just keep on spinning.