Friends & Rebel Scum alike,
There comes a time in all of our lives when we must evaluate where we are at. Sit back and think a bit about all that life holds for us and really consider the effects of our actions. None of us want to offend anyone, do we? Well, sometimes yes. I have really come to loathe some of the people in Newport Beach. While talking with the Jedi Master of our campout line, El Grande Newport, and while enjoying my neighbor's custom R2D2, we realized that the theatre we are congregating at (well, damn near worshipping with all the publicity) is the Saturday night babysitter of Newport Beach's beau monde. The ratio of parents to children was extremely, uh, wack. Yes, wack is the best word I could think of. Apparently parents have not realized that kids movies are only 90 minutes or less and a decent meal at Roy's or Morton's takes at least 2 1/2 hours, and that's with skipping dessert. Luckily the parents that have figured out this time conflict have opted to buy their kids tickets to R-rated movies, so they don't have to rush through their creme brulee or chocolate souffle.
Alas, some parents did decide to see movies with their children, the mother's wearing less and looking younger than most of their kids, talking to young men around the area; the father's donning their Rolex's, staring at the other parents' kids, hopefully.
At any given moment, the parking lot at Big Newport, on a weekend night, is probably worth well over 1.5 million dollars! And that's not counting all the work the drivers and passengers have had done on themselves.
I muse these thoughts because Day 8 of this wonderful campout served as a vague day and sleepless night. I decided to stay another night, do my part if you will, because I enjoy it and the atmosphere is entirely sublime. I walked onto our interplanetary campout conglomeration with no expectations, just a heightened way of looking at the evening.
Most of the folks were playing video games or watching movies. There were no obnoxious egg or balloon tossers last night, just the occasional honking of those in opposition or support- honestly, I am losing track of which honks mean what. A soft blanket of mist-filled clouds creeped in and cooled the night, as well as a steady breeze which made the palm trees give a bit of a sway.
We watched Episode I. What can I say other than "Loyal, we must be." The dialogue gets worse and worse. The actors are stagnate and opaque. Why did I feel chills the first time I saw this? I guess the only good thing that came from it is Liam Neeson's sword fighting. He has pretty much established himself as the only swordsman for hire in Hollywood (Kingdom of Heaven, Batman Begins).
I of course had my own intermission during the film and went to pop some popcorn. On my little outing, I had to watch as our cantina microwave's power went so low that all it did was turn the dish inside- no nuking going on- and the lights inside dim. Then, the El Newport Grande lent me his household radiation carrier to no avail. I finally asked the theatre manager if I could use their's, but he informed me of "the health risk involved with microwaving outside food where the Hot Dogs are cooked". The comedy in that statement is too precious to make my own. But, he did hook me up and went out of his way to use the theatre breakroom's microwave.
Sleep escaped me, but I managed to steal about two hours away. After that, I went to Stater Bros., bought my wife a small bouquet for our one month anniversary of being married, crawled into bed with her and watched her sleep for half an hour until I had to get up and go to work.