three years ago today i was the maid of honor in elaine's wedding to ryan. if honorable equals securing a monster truck limo for the bachelorette party, then yes i am honorable. if honorable equals striping from your bridesmaid dress down to your skivies and diving from a wedding altar platform into a lake and swim racing several groomsmen to the fountain in the middle of it, then yes i am honorable. if honorable equals wearing short shorts and a hot pink tshirt with "Single and Fabulous" emblazoned on it to the wedding after-party, then yes i am honorable. there is little to nothing that i will not do to honor elaine and ryan. and that includes crashing their romantic anniversary vacation, which i did yesterday. that's just the kind of maid of honor i am.
elaine: "i forgot to tell you. we're going to san diego."
maux: "well, then so am i."
Thus, I found myself on the 7:20am Amtrak from LA to San Diego yesterday. And, by the way, thank you Will Ferrell for completely ruining San Diego. Everytime i say the words outloud, the phrase "whale's vagina" echoes unspoken in my mind.
As usual, i cannot give train travel any higher marks. I was dropped off moments before departure, depuffing eye cream still moist on my face, latte and muffin in hand, and breezily boarded the train with a day bag of goodies, including liquids of a multitude of sizes in whatever size baggie i felt like putting them in. The porter actually tipped his hat to me as i boarded the train, with a gentlemanly "good morning pretty lady." Quite a step up from standing barefoot and spread eagled while being wanded by disgruntled airport personnel as they remove all metallic accesories from my person and repeatedly inquire if i have had hip replacement surgery: "Huh, must be a lot of underwire in your bra then."
I spent the 3 hour trip alternately reading, writing, and watching early morning surfers out the window. oh, did i forget to mention this glamorous train runs straight down the coast for most of the route? it does! All for the low cost of $34.00. airports and traffic on the 405, kiss my ass.
Elaine had mentioned it cost her and ryan an inexplicable $50.oo for their airport cab to the resort. i don't cotton well to that kind of nonsense. Determined to avoid the same fate, i asked the kindly san diego train station information desk grandma if there was a cheaper way to get to Coronado Island.
"Well, there's always the water taxi." Aha! Where there's gumption, there's a way. Two blocks, twenty minutes, and $3.25 later I sat on the ferry holding two iced latte's in my lap. I next did what anyone would do. I called Tori to make her jealous.
Maux, singsong voice: "Guess what I'mmmm doing! You're going to be jeeaaalllooouussss!..."
Tori, quietly: "I am jealous. And now you've depressed me."
There's just something about an adventure on a monday morning that really makes me appreciate my alternative work week. On the ferry i also realized the true size of the driving bridge to coronado, the one i had looked at on a map and thought, heck, why don't i just take my bike and ride from the train station? that would have taken a little more than gumption, as it is a highway.
But my adventure was not over yet. No, sir.
Two bus rides ($2.25) later I was deposited a half mile from the resort, on the opposite side of the coastal highway. no problem, these jack rogers sandals were (not) made for walking. the So-Cal chic outfit i was trying to impress elaine with had begun to look a little wilted, yet i was still clutching one of the sweating iced latte's, determined to present it to her as a token of my love.
the bus window tour through town had been highlighted with the delicious eye candy of navy officers in a wide variety of uniform. 'i'm sure Will won't mind,' i thought as i shamelessly stuck my thumb out while i walked the rest of way; half of me wanting to hitch hike the final distance so i could add to the train-boat-bus travel trilogy, and the other half of me living in a deranged fantasy land trilogy of "top gun," "an officer and a gentleman," and channing tatum. I was not picked up.
elaine and i spent the day laying on beach chairs complimenting each other on how good we look, critiquing the bathing suit and tattoo choices of everyone who dared to cross our path ("stay classy san diego"), and covering an astounding number of gossipy topics in rapid speed dialogue. note to people with fairy tattoos: we hate you. note to jon & kate plus 8: we hate you too. note to miley cyrus: why are you on the cover of elle magazine? are you fashionable? we also had time for some light reading on heavy topics. elaine: "the reader." maux: "six months in sudan." beautiful AND smart? lowbrow AND highbrow? we really have it all! i will out myself that i was caught reading "Cookie" magazine. a magazine for chic yuppie mommies, of which i am not. i admit, it is like an unpopular freshman in highschool reading the prom issue of seventeen. what can i say? i like the pictures? when we called tori back to let her know how much we were enjoying the mango smoothies, fish tacos, and salt water pool, she was not pleased ("what do you bitches want now?"). we felt bad for a minute before we remembered, oh yeah, you live in vail.
My final report is that the first three years of marriage have treated elaine and ryan very well. i have never seen them happier, funnier, more in love, or in better shape. after a dine and dash on pizza and chardonnay at the ferry dock watching the sun set, i reversed my journey and headed home, elaine and ryan waving to me as the ferry retreated. or maybe they were waving the check, since i bailed out of dinner without paying. traveling 7 hours roundtrip in one day to toast your best friend and her husband in san diego is not only the honorable thing to do, it's classy.