On The Road With Mama: Chapter 1 PCH
Funny thing about moving to LA is that, at first, everyone mocks you.
“Are you gonna get fake boobs?” they ask. (Hell yeah I am. Right away.)
“Make sure to read the NY Times, everyone out there is dumb.” they say. (I prefer to study the LA art of converting stupidity into cash)
“You’ll be back next year” they say. (But I didn’t.)
I’ll tell you what did happen, immediately afterwards these same dismissive bitches show up on my doorstep looking to escape NY winters & play in LA. And that’s great and all, but if I knew I’d be running a bed and breakfast, I would’ve bought a smaller house (Sorry, no room at the inn!). The good news for you suckers is that all of this Julie McCoy action has made me into a great travel guide.
First thing everyone wants me to do is take them up PCH to Malibu to see hot surfers and celebrities. Which frankly is offensive considering the fact that my husband is a hot surfer and I’m a celebrity in my own mind, but that’s neither here nor there. So what I like to do is take them for a drive, starting in Santa Monica.
This is often treacherous, but if they wanted mellow, they would’ve gone to see grandma in Naples. So grab your sunblock, helmet and barf bag, we’re going to Malibu.
First stop, PCH. Yeah, it’s cliche but if there’s anything I’ve learned in my 29 years is that cliches exist for a reason. PCH is just plain awesome, particularly this stretch from Santa Monica to Malibu–incredible views, incredible cars and you’ll be stuck in traffic so there’ll be loads of time to suck it up. Don’t be grumpy, this is LA way. Just roll down the window & breathe deeply– there’s plenty of ocean air, Carrera exhaust and second hand medical marijuana smoke to mellow you out.
Halfway to the ‘Bu, we’ll pass through Topanga Canyon–where hippies with money hide in the woods. This road is magical because it’s got more curves than Sophia Vergara’s silhouette and the road is precariously perched over a stunning drop into the dry Topanga Creek. Yeah, you’ll need that barf bag now. Topanga is a popular playground for people who like to drive like these silly DeLoreans:
But Topanga also has incredible homegrown art. This isn’t your NY Banksy bullshit or a billion dollar billboard by Peter Tunney, this is just some crazy Creeker with a mission (the way art should be):
So dig it man, because we’re just about to turn onto Mulholland and you can kiss your hippies goodbye. But that’ll be next week, when I’ll give you Chapter Two…