Red Bull

When I was driving across the country about 2 months ago I realized something. There is a ton of crap to do in L.A.. I began to make a list of things I wanted to do in L.A. and California. Things like; go to the Hollywood Bowl, see a movie star, go to Salinas Valley where John Steinbeck is from, make-out with a movie star in Malibu, etc. This list is pretty long in its physical sense. It is infinitely longer in my head. When I hear of something cool to do or see I make a mental note. If it is something super serious it ends up written in my journal for further consideration.

All of that is to say my first evening in L.A. I saw a giant advertisement for the "Red Bull Soap Box Derby" needless to say I made a mental note, wrote it in my journal, tattooed it on my body. I refused to do anything else on September 26. If my dad died, the funeral would be postponed. I mean Red Bull gives you wings. Think what it could do for my dead dad.

It was everything I thought it could be. Over 100,000 people attended this glorious event. The breakdown is this. Remember those soapbox derbies you may or may not have attended as a child? Maybe you were a boyscout or just watched a Disney channel movie that culminated with the main character winning the race as well as growing as a person and learning a life lesson. I knew that I had to be there. (I've missed out on a lot of life lessons) There were about 40 contestants all equally crazy in their themes and presentations. Eric Estrada was a guest judge. They gave away free energy drinks to men, women and children who really did not any more blind energy than they already had.

Where do you go from the Red bull Soapbox derby in Downtown L.A. in the shadow of Skyscrapers and homeless dudes selling Blow pops for a quarter? I went to an outdoor showing of Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Richard Dreyfuss at his best as a crazed man who saw...something...and is now a exhibitionist sculptor with potatoes and play-do. There is something special about watching a movie outside. Perfect weather. No one under the age of 40 except Sam and I. Apparently, the youth of today have something better to do than watch a classic Spielberg film outside on a blow up screen with a raffle for telescopes going on.

School started for me yesterday. More on that soon. Once I get out from under about 600 pages of reading, I'll tell you about it.