Ryan Joy (atxryan)

This is a LOOOONNNG blog. For that I apologize, but I promised the rest of the story and pictures today.

***WARNING: If any of the following offend you, please STOP reading now, DON’T look at any of the pictures, and go watch the 700 Club or something: drinking, sex, marijuana, male strip shows, nude sunbathing, gambling, dancing, or pantsless driving. Please DO NOT try any of this, except at home. We are professionals. We are also reckless, insane, and very lucky to have made it back to Texas alive. Lock your doors and keep your children away.***

Continuing our story, Bryan and I give away all of his furniture, pack his truck with everything he owns, and say our goodbyes to all the friends he’s made while working in Napa.

Heading to San Francisco we realize we don’t have any bud for the trip. Perhaps you can drive long distances without toking a lil’, but we can’t. So, in lieu of the green, shots were chosen as the vice of the day. Arriving in SanFran we find the first parking garage available and then go walking around downtown, soaking up the city for the last time, looking for a worthy bar to kick off our road trip. Granted, it’s only 11am, but that’s not too early for hard liquor, right?

Regardless, we eventually settle on the bar Sutter Station at the corner of Sutter & Market St. Upon walking in we’re pleasantly surprised to find that there are quite a few patrons already drinking. YES! These are my type of people! We shimmy on up to the bar and order two shots of Jagermeister. Mmmmm, tastes like Christmas as Bryan likes to say. Rick, the bartender (name changed for protection), makes small talk with us and we tell him we’re on our back to Austin, that Bryan’s lived in Napa for a year, etcetera, etcetera. Well, since we’re on a road trip and we’ll be doing LOTS of driving, Rick gives us another round of Jager on the house. Score!

A pool table is beckoning us, so we order a couple of beers, get some quarters, and go make ourselves acquainted. While I’m kicking Bryan’s ass in a game, Rick walks up to continue our bar chat. Eventually he asks us if we ‘smoke’ and if we have anything for our roadtrip. We don’t. Rick, it seems, is a very helpful bartender and he offers to make a phone call and have some bud dropped off! He then pulls a joint out of his shirt pocket and says we can enjoy that now. Wide-eyed and excited, Bryan and I look around and see no place discrete to smoke it. Rick says to just go outside on the sidewalk and light up out there. Ummmm, ok. We go outside, enjoy the joint in downtown SanFran, and then come back inside to find that the delivery has been made. SCORE again!

Feeling very accomplished, and slightly inebriated after two shots and 3 beers each, we head back to the truck and venture on to Monterrey. There we have lunch, walk along the pier, drink some more free shots, and I take a stupid picture with an anchor. What the hell is with all these places giving us free liquor when we say we’re on a road trip? Don’t they know that means we’re driving!?!?!!

Driving along Hwy 1 from Monterrey to San Luis Obispo, my mouth was slack jawed the entire time. It was un-fucking-believably gorgeous. I still can’t get over it. Sometimes it be like DAMN! and that was one of those times. Incredibly, it took us 12 hours to make it from Napa to SLO; a trip that should normally take 4 hours. I’ve heard that SLO is an amazing city but I wouldn’t know because all we did was crash out in the first roadside lodge we came upon.

The next morning we wake & bake before hitting the road again. Destination: Palm Springs! Some crazy shit happened on the way, as it always does, like the tweaked-out-of-her-gourd meth chick that wouldn’t let us enjoy our tequila and hamburgers in Ontario, but this blog is already waaaayyy too long. We’ll skip straight to the real fun!

Normally, what happens in Palm Springs stays in Palm Springs. Be honored that I’m sharing tales and pics from the inner-sanctum of this depraved little city. I’m gonna just give you the highlights…
* Practically as soon as we got to my uncle’s place, we started sun bathing nude. I’m now tan in places I’m not normally tan, baby! Yeah.
* Continuing our tradition from last year’s Palm Springs visit, we got pedicures. This time, however, the Vietnamese man missing his index finger wasn’t there. This may sound weird to you, but I REALLY liked the foot massage this guy gave. Something about that ghost finger rubbing all over my foot. Are you shuddering yet? good.

* We earned $200 helping this chick who was sexually assaulted in her apartment’s elevator move to a new house. Nobody who lives in a one-bedroom apt. needs SIX truckloads of stuff. Nobody. This girl’s mom kept giving us kisses and offering us Vicodin.
* We spent $100 of that hard earned money at Heaven, a gay male strip club. Bryan was happy. Janelle was happy. I got paid $20 to take off my pants. I didn’t want to upstage anyone, so that’s all I took off. Later, I was propositioned for sex by one of the strippers and had to tell him I was straight.
* We lost the other $100 at blackjack. I wanted to play craps, but learned that dice games were illegal in the state of California.
* Bryan had A LOT more fun than I did with A LOT more people. ‘nuff said.

I won’t reveal anymore.

I don’t know when, I don’t know why, and I can only guess as to what substance we were under the influence of when we made this decision, but Bryan and I decided while still in Napa that we’d make Arizona a no pants state. Wait, wait… I just remembered why. May 6th was National No-Pants Day! For those of you unfamiliar, you can learn all about this most revered celebration at www.NoPantsDay.com. I hope to see you in your underwear for next year’s Cinco de Mayo! Back to the story at hand, Bryan and I removed our pants for what would be the last time this road trip as soon as we crossed into Arizona. About an hour later we witnessed the engine of some poor sap’s truck blow up right in front of us. We would’ve stopped and tried to help, but that would just be silly without pants. Not to mention dangerous!

We thought all the excitement was over until we looked in the rear view mirror and saw the red & blue lights. Shit. Bryan pulls over and an Arizona Highway Patrolman who didn’t appreciate our haste to return to Texas walks up to my window.
To Bryan: Would you go ahead and step out of the vehicle?
Bryan steps out.
Are you in your underwear?
LMAO!
This look of bewilderment combined with annoyance crosses his face. It doesn’t look like we’re getting of this one. He obviously doesn’t appreciate the comical nature of the situation caused by our lack of pants. I thought it was HILARIAL! This cop was taking forever to call in our information, leaving Bryan standing next to the interstate in his underwear. I was cracking up and the cop was not amused in the least bit.

We thought we were in the clear until we crossed the NM state line and got pulled over AGAIN for going 93 mph in a 75. Ooops. Once again, the comical nature of the situation was too much for me to contain. Especially when Bryan used the excuse that he had to pee really bad and the officer told him he could do it on the side of the road. So, he did and the wind kept blowing his t-shirt up showing his bare ass to the cop. I kid you not.

I’m wrapping this blog up before I incriminate ourselves anymore. Just know that this is the censored version of our trip and the craziness didn’t end until we pulled into Austin around 8am on Mother’s Day. We drove straight thru. 23 hours.

By the numbers:
# of times I heard NIN The Hand that Feeds: 26
# of miles driven without pants: 420 (coincidence? I think not!)

Things I loved about Cali:
*I was never once carded for alcohol. Not in the stores, not in the bars.

*No humidity! I could actually walk outside without breaking a sweat.

Things I hated about Cali:
*I was carded every single time I bought cigarettes.
*Everything is more expensive. You know those .25 cent packs of Wrigley’s gum? well, they’re .30 cents there.

And the fun begins…

If you ever find yourself at Sutter & Market in SanFran, stop in this bar. Maybe they’ll, ummm, hook you up.

SanFran from the Bay Bridge