To The Wedding . . . with Groom

Sometimes, Saturdays in June my car fills up with wedding people. Mostly, guests — who are always late — or bachelor-night girls seeking places of ill repute. In my day, we tiptoed into Chippendales, which I thought had gone out of business, but it appears in Las Vegas. My UBER  doesn’t go that far, but I would if someone asked for a ride, just before taking that final single ride.
So, on an ordinary Saturday, I got a ‘ping’ that announced I had a ride waiting, but it would take 21 minutes to get there. I must have been the only UBER driver out that day. I drove all the way through San Clemente, took a short-cut on La Pata and ended up in a nice housing development on the edge of Lake Elsinore.

There were two men, plus a son. They all carried boxes, hanging clothes, and briefcases.
“We’re going to get married,” the man who slid into the shotgun seat.
“All of you?”
“Oh, no, just the guy in the back.”
The ‘guy in the back and his son nodded. I asked, “Would you like to stop anywhere, just one more single event?”
“No, I think I’m ready for this.”
We then headed back across San Clemente, up into Talega, to a house, where a throng of family were waiting.
“Don’t forget anything,” I offered. “If you do, I could always go back to your house and pick up what you’ve left behind.”
“We’ve got everything we need. If we don’t need it anyway.”
I wished them good luck and took off.
It looked like it was going to rain.

But, it didn’t.


Chickens Like Vanilla Milkshakes

Occasionally I try delivering food, otherwise known as “Uber Eats”.

It’s a good way to make money running up and down the hills of San Clemente and if I have a little time to Uber before taking on any other of my numerous ‘odds jobs.’

On a hump day, I got a call to go to McDonald’s in Dana Point. The order wasn’t ready when I got there, so I stood around and watched a stream of others drive up, pull in and order stuff I have not partook in for a few years in my effort not to outdistance my weight scale.

Finally, the server, Olivia, said my order was ready. She then produced six Large Vanilla Milkshakes. I asked for a paper holder, and Olivia, clever as she was and probably is to this day, cut one cardboard holder in half.

Then, it was an adventure getting six blocks to my destination, a Pollo Loco next to Costco in San Juan Capistrano. The order stipulated that I wait for someone to fetch. Out comes Roberta, who took all six milkshakes inside, within my carry case, promising to bring back the bag. She did. As she put it through my window, I said “This is the strange delivery for today.”

“Pollo Loco chickens love McDonald’s milkshakes,” she replied.

Now, I know. Never a day without learning new facts!


Then, it

Chicken Crosses the Road

to get to the Milkbar!

Farewell: Hideaway, Sandy and Kung Pao

I had never met them before, until they were carried in cages down to the shoreline at Alicia Beach, in South Laguna.

Hayden is an honorary member of the Pacific Marine Mammal Center, and my pal, Judy, sent us the email announcing the ‘release’ of these Sea Lions from the hospital up on Laguna Canyon Road.

The day sun was hot, after several days of indecent rain and floods. We could see Catalina, appearing closer that usual. Hayden stopped at the top of the sand dune and said “Gammy, see the dolphins!”

There were dolphins waiting beyond the rise of the waves, as if they knew Hideaway, Sandy and Kung Pao would soon be joining them. The cages were lined up, the front opened simultaneously. Volunteers held up signs that said “Quiet”  . . . so we wouldn’t make the seals [all women] nervous.

One by one, they exited the cages and looked out at the sea, then back to the cages. I am not going to put words in these seals mouths, but it was as if they might be asking “Really?”

The humans, with black screens held in front, slowly shuffled toward the edge of the sea, The seals gave one last look at the sand behind them, and scurried [can a seal scurry?] into the receding waves.

They swam away, not out toward Catalina, but parallel with the shore, toward a rock outcropping at the far end of the beach. “Someone will stay behind to see if they make their way out into the ocean,” we were told.

That made me feel better, sharing their freedom.