Australia Day 6

Probably the earliest I’ve been up in some time, we woke up at 5am (that’s 1230 noon-time yesterday for Los Angeles) to catch the Sunrise in Uluru Rock National Park. Greeted by a bright and chipper (actually I think he may have been still waking up, and masking his own activities from the night before, kind of like most camp counselors…), Brenton. Natalie Imbruglia greeted us on the bus with “Torn”, which I have to admit was kind of a nice throwback as well as settling to hear local musicians in the country being played. (I fortunately have yet to hear Lady Gaga on this trip). I can’t lie and say that I was awake enough to hear what everyone else was talking about or where they may or may not have been from, but I know that Brenton was using monosyllabic words, and giving us the minimum, as well as pushing us to nap until we got to the breakfast and sunrise viewing sand dune.

In another throwback to my guide days at camp, Brenton did quite comically announce, in that morning grumpy and exhaustion with the tourists (this is the beginning of their fall and Off-Season down here) grumbled “Okay. Since I’ve heard this three times now, there are NO Kangaroos or Emus out here. I know that you’ve been expecting them, but they just can’t survive and are never out here in the desert. They need water. We don’t get water out here. In the 2 ½ years that I’ve been out here, I’ve seen one. One solitary kangaroo. If you want to see a kangaroo, go 60Km to the east, and you’ll see more than you know what to do with. Insurance companies won’t insure you driving at night because there’s so many of them and they jump out at your car.” Go Brenton.

I was a bit turned around out here with the Full Moon getting ready to set, and the Sun Rising in about what I felt to be the same direction that we’d been looking when we witnessed the Sunset 2 nights before. Chalk up one to the Outback for messing up my internal compass. While I will admit that it was quite the spectacle to witness, I can’t say that it was anything particularly moving or spiritual, as many people will describe a Sunrise/Sunset. Though, coincidentally a few nights before Ann Marie and Naughty-D had requested a make a call and get some shooting stars for us at the Sounds of Silence dinner. Fortunately, my call went through and while we were enjoying our Bacon (Ham) and Egg Rolls, and giant meteor crossed the sky long enough for Naughty-D to charade to us to turn around and witness the bright electric-lime-green, ¼ mile long tail cross 1/3 of our view of the open Outback in between us and the Uluru Rock. Visible in the cresting sunlight, backed by the bold blue sky and the rust-red of the Uluru Rock, yes, it crossed in FRONT of the rock; the meteor was one of those National Geographic moments; an amazing and one-of-a-kind experiences that I cannot begin to describe with enough detail. We were all so stunned, that though we were holding cameras, and had enough time to turn them on and shoot the star, we were in such awe we were paralyzed by its beauty.

After everyone else enjoyed a good pot or 3 of coffee and tea, me with my orange juice, and the sun to charge us, we were all awake enough, especially Brenton, to learn a bit more about the Outback, the Aboriginal people living there, the Uluru Rock and its history and a little bit of the fun along the way. We were all a bit enthralled with the Portuguese family, who for the most part were a delight to converse with and explore with; though their youngest, who didn’t understand English, was quite disruptive and bored out of his mind as a result, and was thus driving the father insane. Hi. Larry. Us.

Even though I led tours and shared legends and histories of my surroundings, I am quite hypocritical when I join such tours. I find myself constantly distracted by the surroundings that I’m in and paying little to no attention to anything that is going on. I know that there were more than several sacred parts of the 9Km circumference Uluru Rock, and that we were not supposed to take any pictures of said spots; just as I know that there were a handful of correlating stories to go with some of the natural formations of the rock. There was a 4^th grade description of how the rock came to be; a collision induced mountain range formation, resulting in a sink hole dropping the rock at a 90° angle (hence the vertical stripping of the sedimentary layers) and creating one of the tallest mountain ranges in the world, at the time, some hundreds of millions of years ago, and predating animal life. Though Brenton was informative, and enthusiastic about his tour and us joining him, I still hold some strong beliefs (some of which were relatively validated by the fact that the color of the rock is from the iron based rock rusting) being a HUGE meteor. It may be a bit of a conspiracy theory, but I like it too.

Naughty-D brought the monkey, of course, and we took several dozens of tossing and posing of and with it. I’m not sure if the pics are up yet, but for those of you that forgot, click here pinkmonkeytour.com. No one had really said anything, and the rest of the group was pretty good to get on board with us having this ridiculous animal with us. Fun nonetheless.

I did finally come to find out that the monkey does in fact have a name: Namwah. Naughty-D had read about some monkey that went to strip clubs and smoked cigars in The Weekly World News named Namwah, and felt it only appropriate to name the pink beast the same thing.

I will admit, the hardest part of the whole tour, or really of the Outback all together, is the damn flies. They don’t do anything, but swarm your fucking face. They have a particular fascination with your orifices, and would go straight for your mouth, nose, eyes and ears. For those of you that can’t stand mosquitoes and no-seeums, at least those fuckers will bite you. These flies just swarm your face, and play just enough to drive you absolutely fucking crazy. You entirely wish that you had a tail like a cow that you could swat the damn things away. You get used to the fuckers landing on the rest of your body, and the subtle tickling that results from it. But when they’re trying to burrow in your eyes, nose and you get the same buzzing sound in your ears as they search for gold, and you understand why people love drugs so much.

I blew through the Cultural Center, not because I could have cared less in a malicious and indignant kind of way, but at the same time, I was not particularly in any amazement or mindset to really need to dive into the history lecture and 5^th grade Social Studies report that was there. I checked the art out, and meandered around. I looked at some of the animals and the like, but couldn’t tell you or name anything of any sort there at all. I know, ignorant and arrogant American, but in all fairness, I do the same thing at any similarly set up area everywhere. I absorb the information, and when something particularly peaks my curiosity and interest, I’ll look into it, otherwise I just look at the pretty things. While I may play that stereotype, I do however always mind my manners and make sure to keep as neutral, respectful and modest as possible when in such a setting. i.e.-I took no pictures at the center, I used my inside/library voice when talking with my traveling party, I touched nothing, and I steered clear of any subject you should never discuss on a 1^st date (politics, religion, relationships).

Brenton was quite the calm guide, and used many of the same jokes and anecdotes that I did while working at the camp, and leading tours though tourist destinations. I applaud him on his tactful ways of handing all the common, and ignorant questions (Where’s the kangaroos? Why can’t I touch that?) with just enough disdain that the whole group knew better than to bring it up again, and come to terms with the fact that not everything is what it’s presented as in the Hollywood (12,000mi away) movies. He was even kind enough to take anyone’s picture at the Scenic Uluru Rock Spot.

The rest of the day we spent again lounging by the pool, napping and burning a base tan into our appearances. We did venture into the “village” for some of the fly cream and ice cream at one point, before taking another shuttle into the park again, for Sunset pics of the rock. Pete could not have been more than bored out of his mind had we given him a handful of grass to watch grow, and a few walls with fresh paint to dry. Our shuttle driver could not have gone through the sunset tour fast enough, unfortunately mother nature wasn’t playing with him, and refused to speed up the process (setting sun) for him.

Dinner was from the bar menu, and consisted of a pretty good steak sandwich with sundried tomatoes on a rosemary roll. But, not enough to take a pic or anything of the sort.

We did try to use the hot-tub (sink) but it was to little to no avail. Cute, but not really.

That pretty much wraps up the Outback. Tomorrow we head to Cairns.

Australia Day 5

Well, day 5, and it’s the first day that we slept in. I say slept in, we were still up and moving around by 830a, finally peeling ourselves out of bed by 1030. We did meander over into “the village” or the central shopping/tourism/grocery store area of the resort to grab a quick bite to eat, and grab a few things from the store, like toothpaste. Living on the edge…

I know that I’ve been talking a lot of food, but I really like it. So, yes, I ate “breakfast”, the ham and cheese croissant was alright, but the Passion Fruit Yogurt was killer. The Ayers Rock Deli layered fresh pureed passion fruit and plain yogurt 4 times for your enjoyment, if you like the tartness of the fruit. Naughty-D did not.

The rest of the day consisted of catching up on postings, and lounging by the pool. You can’t really go on vacation, and not enjoy the benefits of not having to do anything but get a great base tan (or in most tourist cases, a good frying). I tanned, the others burned. The pool was refreshing and the animals that joined were entertaining, especially this bird here. He’s not fucking around with his lunch, that’s for sure.

As for dinner, it was a full experience. We hiked out to the lookout to try and get the actual sunset (Naughty-D missed the actual sun setting the night before, consumed with getting this shot)

Ayers Rock Resort is split up into several different experiences. You have one location that is the “high class, fine experience” which, I’m not sure, but assume that their rooms are much like suites and just a small step above your average room. Our section, Sails in the Desert, is pretty much your average room, though with a killer patio and each has a private hot tub (read: 3’ diameter, 3’deep. It’s a giant sink), and a great pool with restaurant and art gallery in it. One of the sections is fully camping, and looks to be just an open lot, that at least has a ranger station. The section we had dinner at was the in between, it appeared.

The Outback Pioneer Hotel seemed to be just the place that is much like a cabin, or fixed tent community; common area showers and kitchens for you, just as there is a bar with a few pool tables and a live band (solo-guitarist) for you to get away from the rest of the family that dragged you to the place. However the “restaurant” was awesome. You walk up to the butcher, and request which dish, or meats you would like. I chose the Outback Sampler consisting of a Kangaroo Skewer, a Crocodile Kabob, an Emu Sausage and 2 Beef Sausages. You then go to the grill they have set and running for you, and you cook your own meal. Fucking. Awesome.

There is a guide for you to follow for recommended times for each of the meats. There’s also a little salad/sides bar for you to round out your meal with. All in all, it was quite awesome. The crocodile, once re-grilled to actual cook it appropriately was pretty good; the beef sausages were better grilled than flat topped; the Kangaroo cooked very rare was amazing; but the emu took the prize for best on the plate.

 

Apparently the desert takes a bit out of you, though the solo-guitarist, while good, played every tourist destination song you can think of (Sweet Caroline, I’m Yours, 1000 Miles, etc.) took a little out of you as well, and again, by 11p we were all passing out. Sunrise plans for the next day didn’t hurt that at all either.

Australia Day 4

We wrapped up our time in Sydney Monday morning (March 29) again at the break of dawn. The Hilton’s restaurant, Glass had a tray of fruit lying just outside the front doors to the dining room. Though I haven’t really eaten breakfast in years, I was starting to get used to the idea, and grabbed some of the fruit from this tray for a quick getaway. The ones I knew, the Kiwi and the Apple were hard to challenge, but the rotting fig-like tough fruit was enough to make me have to grab it out of my morbid curiosity. We found a knife at the coffee stand/shop and tore the thing open to discover that it was our dreamy Passion Fruit (from the passion de pierre a few days before). While oddly gooey, I was the only one to really enjoy the tartness that came from it prior to it becoming a confectionary delight.

For the first time in close to a decade, I did not sleep the duration of the flight. I’m not sure if it was the talents of Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law, or the fact that I was sitting in the aisle seat, in the last row, just next to the bathrooms on a 3 ½ hour flight. Fortunately the smell wasn’t bad at all. Unfortunately, my fellow passengers lining up to use the facilities were a bit disgruntled at the fact they had to wait, and for some reason my seat lined up perfectly with the attitude and scoffing that was necessary to demonstrate their discontent. I made sure to also use my computer and write entirely inappropriate literature for any of them to read as they stared at my screen. I do what I can.

I’m not sure if I had mentioned where about in the Australian geography I was heading this day, but as I had found out as we were checking in at Sydney International, Ayers Rock was the next stop on the itinerary. Ayers Rock has since been renamed back to its original Uluru Rock. I have now done one of my favorite things to do: Go from the hustle and bustle of a busy city, to the most remote places on the planet with little to no transition median in between. Welcome the Outback.

Sydney did not satisfy my naïve stereotyping of the Australian demographic. Uluru Rock exemplified my envision of Australia. I had always pictured the vast desert like ground, dark red in appearance (though not as dark as what is before me) with sparse vegetation of shrubs and trees (ironically Australian Pine which I made a job of removing for years from the Florida Keys) with little to no animal or human life visible. It was hot, just the way I like it.

Our resort that we’re staying at, Ayers Rock Resort, where we are staying at the Sails in the Desert, is exactly the modern oasis you would imagine in the environment. It’s a perfect little village/resort almost straight out of DisneyLand/World, that is as minimal in its impact on the surrounding environment, with all the local flair and fanfare to make you feel as though without leaving any of your modern conveniences (I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere, seriously google map me, and I’m “blogging” to you right now) you are in the midst of the natural and natives. The views are pretty great, without anything within 50Km to obstruct views, the rooms are up to par (in contrast to sleeping in the desert) and the pool is quite refreshing in the courtyard surrounding the restaurants and shops.

The rest of the day was primarily set to lounging by the pool. Pete and Naughty-D got a little impatient and jumped the gun, ordering the Kangaroo Wrap for a snack to eat.

Our dinner, at the Sounds of Silence was a great little tour, sunset experience, not really a restaurant, but they feed you pretty well, in a beautiful setting where you feel like you’re at a nice restaurant, though you’re really sitting at a fold up table, on the dark red sand, out in the middle of the Outback. After being dropped off at the location, the staging area had a musician playing the didgeridoo (sorry Sam, you sounded kind of like the 5^th grade Recorder concert competing against the New York Philharmonic with this guy) as they passed out free (read: included in the price) champagne and wine, or Lift (I swear it’s my ½ lemonade, ½ sprite combo) as I’m still not drinking (when the hell is Easter already) and hors d’oeuvres of Kangaroo on a Basil Paste and bread, Smoked Salmon Rolls (not sushi, but like the pinwheels for kids) and little Crocodile and Macadamia nut pies as we watched the sunset over the Outback, with Uluru Rock in the back (it was to the east of us, therefore not playing well for a KILLER sunset pic op). As soon as the sun set, they took us to our tables, where we shared seating with our 6 newest friends: a Newly-Wed couple from Tokyo who could just barely make basic conversation, and 4 Brits who were quite delightful, and traveling almost an identical reciprocal itinerary as us.

Our dinner buffet was a delicious lineup of Pumpkin and Feta Salad, Citrus Couscous, a potato salad that was awesome (pictured) but I can’t tell you more than that, and a Crocodile Caesar Salad; all of this being the Cold Side options. On the hot side we had Kangaroo (a little over cooked), Chicken Sausage (I don’t know why, though not bad), Roasted Potatoes and Lamp Chops. I would definitely say a step up from your Wedding Buffet, but outside of the location experience, not too much to write home about. We were blessed and cursed with a (one day away from) Full Moon to lighten up the sky for our dinner experience. I only say cursed because I’m sure the stars of the Outback are second only to those of the Antarctic Circle, and the interruption by the bright-ass moon deterred away from that.

After dinner an Astrologist (or at least as much as any camp counselor would be) gave a comical guide to the stars that we could see. The Southern Cross, Cancer, Leo, Taurus, Gemini and of course Orion were all on his list. There is the Big Dog and the Small Dog down here, no Big and little Dipper; just as there is no North Star, or really a South Star, just an “ish”. By far the coolest thing that he did show us, was Saturn. Not only did he point it out below the moon, but his telescopes were able to let us see the rings around the peach colored planet. Yeah, I’d fly halfway around the world again in a heartbeat for a dinner experience like that again in a heartbeat.

Good night.

Australia Day 3

Now, in all fairness, we did have quite the change in time zones and as far as we were concerned, we’d been doing great for being 18 hours ahead of our home times. I had also mentioned that while we were at Bondi Beach the day before, we had been setting up our plans for the 3rd day (the subject that will be referred to as “today”). We had signed up for a tour of the Blue Mountains, supposedly a photographic and interactive tour.

The bus/truck/safarimobile picked us up at 645a, before gathering the other people that were with us, bringing the collective group size to about a dozen. We were all coming to and really waking up on the safarimobile as we made our way out of the city and into the forest. Naughty-D was excited because our tour guide Sam was supposed to be a photographer, so would therefore most likely be stopping at prime locations, and allotting for picture taking to take place throughout the day.

Our first stop was the Featherdale Animal Park. A refuge of sorts, amongst the suburbs of Sydney and home to a good collection of the indigenous found around Australia. We were informed that this would also be a hands-on approach to many of these species. I was on a mission to hold a Koala. As we were walking in, one of the staff had an 8 week old Wallaby (or cousin, I can’t remember the exact name, starts with a “P”; I’ll get back to you). Needless to say, we were consumed with the cute little guy, and separated from the rest of our group, leaving us in the parking lot.

Entering the habitat was quite enjoyable, the trees covered most of the sunlight, the birds were all caged everywhere, the Wombat greeted you like my cat does upon first sight, and there were more wallabies hopping around everywhere. We were the poster children for Ritalin; didn’t even make it 10 feet before 120 pics had been taken. I forced us to move along a little, to scope it all out, talking Naughty-D, Pete and Ann Marie into this by reminding them we could return to play. Well, Pete was already moving pretty good.

The park had a Koala out to pose pictures with, though he wasn’t really having any of it. Fortunately, there was a little wallaby right next to him on the ground that we all made real close friends with, as you can see.

Again, with reminders, we moved into the Kangaroo area. I think there were about 6 of the 60 species in this area, and fortunately I think we got there early enough they weren’t fed up with the tourists, nor were they full enough they wouldn’t come for more food. I did start to see this transition while we were playing with them. We continued to move along, and spent the rest of our hour there taking more pics, and trying to lure nocturnal animals into the daylight to take pics for our own amusement and enjoyment.

Sam took us with the safarimobile through the mountains and described in detail some of the plant life, and the way things came to be. He really enjoyed his scratchy CD (read like an old home-made cassette tape recording) of some of the old favorites (read elementary school staples) as we traveled through the rainforest, or used to be rainforest. He did drop us of at one point so we could walk ourselves and check out the smells. He did seem a bit put off when none of us wanted to play his didgeridoo (that he couldn’t play either).

We had lunch at the Mount Tomah Botanic Garden, which reminded me of 90% of every outdoor wedding venue you’d see. We of course had lunch inside, fedBarmundi Fish with Roasted Potatoes and a Balsamic Salad. Think of the wedding you just went to, and choosing “fish”, make sure you imagine the fish to be white. Yup, lunch. Fortunately, they also had “free” wine, red or white. Again, think wedding. Oh, yeah, I’m still not drinking yet.

I can’t really knock the botanic garden lunch too much, it could have been cold cut sandwiched out of a cooler on a picnic table. It was gorgeous, and the food was decent. We did get some time to walk around the gardens a little and took some pretty pictures. Side note, the garden are the leading location for supplying many places with Jurassic Pine (Dinosaur Pine?) which holds a cancer drug starting with a “T” derived from it. That was kind of cool.

Sam then took us to the Three Sisters, where he put us on the steepest train/tram in the world (52°) lowering us into the canyon and the rainforest. Cute, fun, cool, felt like I was in Jurassic Park. End Scene.

I slept a lot on the safarimobile, as did I think everyone else at that point, so after Sam did a quick drive by of the Olympic City in Sydney, he made us all take the ferry back to the city. Originally this was an option for us to take, though I think that because we didn’t sing along, plays his didgeridoo and slept through his other speeches; he was just as done with us. The ferry was cool, and we got more view and pics of the Opera House (a tallied 1200 pics by that point) and the bridge, before leaving us at the wharf. We found a little micro-brewery not unlike Rock Bottom, and they all enjoyed the beer. A good wrap up to the day.

For dinner, after discovering that many restaurants in Sydney are closed on Sundays (especially the Asian-fusion/Mod-Oz) we foundSummit, a rotating fine dining restaurant on the 47th floor of another building not far from the Hilton Sydney, with a spectacular view of the whole city, harbor, Opera House (tally 1600 pics now) as you rotate an estimated full 360° ever hour. For $80 per person, you get your choice of 2 items, one appetizer and one main course. I opted for the Something-something (I know, classy right) Chicken, Duck and Quail with pistachios. It was like a streusel with a succulent and sweet meatball paste in the center made of those three fowl. For my main course I had the “Jewfish”, grouper with roasted tomatoes, king prawn and eggplant. Really quite good.

 

Naughty-D of course got her pics, and we all laughed as in the fine restaurant (with more servers helping us at every given minute, that while we couldn’t hardly get one to us, didn’t know which one to go to to begin with) she was face down on the floor shooting pics. Good pics though.

This time, we stayed up all the way to 1130p. Though, I feel as though we’re getting onto a regular schedule at this point. Though, this also wraps up Sydney, for which I have to say a great city, and immaculately clean, but not enough to ever draw me back to for any reason of necessity again. I’ll come, but not cry if I miss it.

Oh, best meal I had in Sydney: Home Made Tagliatelle from Baia. Though, the Appetizer Quail, Duck, Chicken is a close second.

Best Experience in Sydney: Making friends with the Kangaroo and Wallabies. Not enough to make me feel bad and not eat them, but they were so much more fun than I expected.

I will be adding pics to these posting as soon as I can.

Australia Day 2

While we were tired as hell from everything combined, part of the reason that we went to bed so early the night before, was so that we could get up early, and be at the Sydney Fish Market by open at 7am. The Sydney Fish Market is the busiest fish market in the Southern Hemisphere, and is second in the world, only to the Japanese Fish Market. (I am going to say Fish Market one more time here, just because it’s even annoying for me to write.) Again, for most of you, a Fish Market is probably one of the most boring places you could go, topped off with the worst aroma you could fathom. I on the other hand, was experience what I can only assume to be how an addict feels when surrounded by their vice. Fresh Mackerel, Spiny Lobster, Tuna of various species and other delicacy fish put me into a frenzy to either buy as much of it as I could, and head to the nearest location that would allow open fire-pits, or get on a boat and go fishing again. Yup, “Me fisher man. Me get big fish, bring home, eat good.”

Though, the rest of the group was a bit disappointed in the market, and decided quite quickly that it was time to move on. We opted to make our way back to the rocks, and see what we could find there for breakfast before setting out for the day. I won’t lie, we were becoming quite the pro’s at navigating the public transit system of Sydney’s Monorail and Light Rail System.

Unfortunately, the day was a bit more overcast, and seemingly gloomy to our day of arrival, and I think even what you’d stereotype Australia to be. At the Rocks (the little original/cultural/touristy/quaint shops with a fair of sorts going on in the streets) we found our little French Bakery for breakfast. La Renaissance Patisserie was actually quite good and all. I only going to mention the dessert pastry I chose simply because of its colors, shape and appearance. The dessert, Passion de Pierre was awesome. It was a little sponge cake, with a custard, though more like a warm ice cream (in oh so many good ways) filling, topped off with a Strawberry Jam under a custard flan with a Passion fruit glaze on the top. The glaze just the right amount of tart before the sweetness of the custard and cake satiated the rest of your senses. (who says that).

We had been curious as to the hike up the Sydney Bridge as well (another architecture marvel I’d been drooling over), and had passed on the Sydney Tower tour en lieu of it. Being at the rocks, and scoping out the craft fair (?) in the street, we walked up to check out prices and time tables and the like. That night (Sat March 27) was the Earth Hour night, and we started talking that if we timed it all right, we could do the hike, catch the sunset and the powerless hour all at the same time. Apparently, the bridge loves that post people want the sunset/rise hours and the tourists, and figured that $200 per person was a perfect price. Fortunately, I had also discovered that the bridge itself is free to walk across. So, after turning down a $200 tour (which I’m sure is spectacular) we simply walked across the bridge to scope out the views.

Walking across the bridge we started seeing runners (or similarly decked out people, of no particular athletic backing or presentation) making their way across. I was able to make out that they were all partaking in the Blackberry City Chase. There were always at least 2 people, some running, some walking, not really in a large group of any sort, and at the base of the bridge, many of them seemed to be a bit discombobulated. After seeing one on a cell phone, and others with maps or directions or lists in their hands, it became apparent that they were on some sort of scavenger hunt. It was really kind of awesome. We made our way through the festival on the streets, and towards the ferry/pool and Lunar Park. More participants came and went, they were swimming at the pool and completing challenges, we were looking for our next stop. We did decide on Bondi Beach. Unfortunately, we took some poor advice, and boarded a bus that took nearly an hour to get us to the beach.

For being one of the most popular beaches in the world, it wasn’t really all that big or busy, it seemed. I cannot deny that it was absolutely beautiful, clean sand in the cove that designed it; surfers on the waves, swimmers playing in the blue and green water. We walked all the way around it, in the sand, then into the rocks, checking out the cliffs carved by the water and time. Of course, the Pink monkey had his day in the sun too.

On our way back, we stopped at the bathrooms real quick, and I was approached (accosted) by a little old man with a gallery on display. I had wandered in thinking it was the history of the Bondi Beach lifeguard, whereas apparently it’s the history of the Speedo, and this guy’s designs. Was kind of cool to hear and talk with him and the gallery. Though, the poor guy was a bit lonely in there I think, because every time we tried to leave he’d seem to cut you off, and strike up a new conversation.

We had been making our plans for the next day, and with the sun and the beach and the walking that we’d done, we went back to the hotel for a quick change and figure out dinner. Originally, I think that we were opting for Sushi/seafood/Japanese, only after flipping a coin for it twice (can’t call heads or tails on a 2 headed coin) when we tried to call for reservations, it was booked solid that night. So, we opted for Prime Steakhouse, and New York Style steakhouse, in the basement of one of the busier buildings a few blocks from the hotel. We were all hungry enough we opted out of the deserts, and decided to simply wolf down our Australian grown beef. It was good, but I’m wishing the Asian-fusion/Mod-Oz place had available seating for us.

Again, like the party-animals we are, we were in bed and passed out by 9p. 

(pics to come soon)

Australia Day 1

After a mildly hectic last day in the United States, leaving me packing finally for a 20 day adventure to a foreign and mythical land right up to the minute we left for the airport, I boarded the largest airplane I’d ever been in (may even be the largest commercial plane in use. Jim?) for the longest distance and timing I’d ever traveled before. They told us we were in for a 15 hour flight to Sydney. I’m not going to lie to you, I was sure I’d make it. I will admit, Quantas Air’s plane was one of the nicest I’d ever been on.

I won’t bore you with the excitement of an overseas flight, other than letting you know that 1) I am still not drinking, and therefore did not enjoy the benefits of the free booze, 2) I forgot to get any sort of sleeping pills for help, 3)I passed out coma-esque for roughly 9 hours, and finally 4) Up In the Air has now secured my Number 2 Movie of 2009 as I finally saw it on the plane. Coincidentally, George Clooney has taken spots 1 and 2 with The Fantastic Mr. Fox as my Favorite movie of 2009.

Now, fortunately the people I’m traveling with are just as stir crazy, and just as determined as I am. We flew all night, lost a day in time, and arrived Friday morning at 9am at our hotel. The Hilton Sydney is quite nice for your stay, and is perfectly located to enjoy the city. We showered in the gym locker room, and made our way out while we waited for our rooms to become available. So, timeframe: 11p Weds night departure from LAX- 7a Fri arrival- 9a hotel arrival-10a boarding of the ferry to discover the foreign city for all of us.

My traveling companion, Naughty-D has been to all other 6 (yes ALL) continents over the past 6/7 years (7 continents in 7 years). For those of you wanting to see some of these adventures, go to pinkmonkeytour.com to see some of the pics that are up currently. As the website eludes to, there is also a pink monkey that is traveling with us, and has certain pics that must be taken.

It may be of no real surprise to you, but I am a huge fan of architecture. The Sydney Opera House is of course one of the feats that has always drawn me to Sydney. Australia I’ve always wanted to visit, but the Opera House was a mandated site. Fortunately I was in site and pics of the buildings within a few hours of my arrival.

We boarded the ferry to Manly in Sydney, and got a great tour of the harbor. Still a little jet-lagged from our 14 hour (we arrived earlier than planned) we motioned through the quaint beach town half conscious. Most of the stumbling were in search of food, though with our timing, restaurants were transitioning from breakfast to lunch, leaving us to be forced to enjoy libations (well, the other 3) until the kitchens re-opened. We did find a cute little place right on the beach, Blue Water Café, and began our food tour of the country as well. I’ll admit, my Red Snapper with Fresh Basil and Grilled Pumpkin and Aioli Sauce was quite delectable.

I wish I could tell you more of the town of Manly, other than it was quite cute and warm, but alas we were still not fully aware of what we were doing. They all drank beer, and I enjoyed the views. The ferry’s were fun, the harbor quite busy in the afternoon but all so relaxing.

We meandered a bit around the Opera House, and fully defiled it with the Pink Monkey (I don’t believe he has a name, just a story). The tiling on the Opera House is even more intriguing to me now than the actual architecture. We checked out a little bit of the city too, and headed towards China town (a block) and Paddy’s Market (flea market, huge building, and same display on every table). Finally around 4 or 5 we made our way back to the Hilton and checked in, showered and decided on dinner somewhere.

The concierge had recommended that we try the Italian place down on the wharf. It was close enough for all of us to walk to again, and there was a string of restaurants there if we really didn’t feel that one out. I think the mixture of the day and the traveling left us all not really caring where we ate. Baia, the Italian place won us over within 30 seconds of spotting it.

Of course, it being on the wharf, next to everything, the place was a bit of a tourist trap, but I felt not all that bad. It took a while for the server to show up, and get everything really going, but all in all I felt it to be a good experience. We started off with some of the Bruschetta (or at least the Australian version) which was quite interesting; on sourdough bread, with very little flavor to it all. We also got a variety order of Oysters; 2 raw/plain, 2 with roasted red peppers and 2 with sautéed mushrooms, no horseradish anywhere (which overall is fine, I’m still hung as to whether or not it’s a necessity). Overall appetizers were interesting, but I’d probably venture to another dish next time.

My main course was the Home Made Tagliatelle with chicken, mushrooms and avocado in a roasted red tomato sauce. I’m not going to lie, this is one of the best red-sauce dishes I’ve ever had, anywhere. I think that everything complimented each other to really play off the different flavors and spices just right.

Now, for the best part of Day 1 on the Adventure/Trip of a Lifetime, all of us were in bed and passed out by 830pm. No lie. No joke. 


What can I say, we’re rock-stars.


Pics to come as soon as I get a better connection. The Outback (not the steakhouse) is not playing well with that)

When It Rains It Pours

As I had been posting in various locations around the interwebs and amongst my friends and peer, I had been craving some change, and something that would stir up a bit of the “norm”. I did not feel as though I had fallen into a rut of any sort, so please do not think that was the case. Actually, you could say just the opposite. Apparently, everything I had been doing and following was falling perfectly into place, to begin a great new path and chapter in the story that is me. My desires to do something “stooped/crazy/ridiculous” were not out of boredom, but more a symbol of the changes or to mark the milestones that I was passing through.

In the past, I had done similar acts. I had pierced my ear. I had highlighted and changed hairstyles. I got tattoos. I went on daredevil activities. All of these enactments were not typically in an act of defiance or rebellion, but usually as that turning milestone marker.

I had pierced my ear (initially just the left one, but with all intents and plans of obtaining the 3 that you all see when I have them in) during Spring Break of my senior year of high school. This was after I had traveled alone, road-tripping to Park City, Utah over Winter Break to stay with a cousin of mine (and sharing my 1^st real beer outside of my dad giving me one) to get my SCUBA certification. I was 17 at the time. Though still young, and in hindsight still quite dependant and naïve, it was still the beginning of my taking control of my own life, and truly making a lot of my own decisions. I had always wanted my ear pierced, namely as an accessory that would make me stand out a bit much from the rest of my peers. Also, it was a great sign of acceptance and unity amongst my community. Me, Mr. Clean-cut-Boy Scout who was seemingly respected by all of my peers, getting my ear pierced to make everyone question whether or not I was really some Rebellious Teen, who was a trouble-maker amongst the masses in Littleton, Colorado.

Yeah, rebellious, that’s me. I can say that I’m a Bad-Ass, though with a Heart of Gold (as several of my Red Robin team members had deemed me). But in all actuality, I typically am the “voice of reason” and keep us out of trouble. Not that I don’t find myself always trying to prove everyone wrong whenever they say I “can’t” or “shouldn’t” be doing something.

I had started to map out the tattoo on my right shoulder blade when I was 16. On my 18^th birthday, a week after I had moved out of my parents house, had gone to a camp and signed off as a participating Boy Scout, had started college, and was supporting myself fully in a town foreign to me, I got the 1^st part of my tat, a mountain biking lizard. Yes, I stole it from the Sobe Fuel bottle, but it depicted the angle of the cyclist, and the symbology perfectly. I cycled through all the trials and tribulations that come from a divorced household, high school, and adolescence. I had always adapted to every change and situation thrown at me, taking to my surroundings, blending and fitting in as easily as I could. This was also another reason for the cyclist to have the appearance that he’s coming over something.

I added more piercings at times of change, and some rebellion. I moved home after a failed attempt to live on my own. The tongue ring I added simply because I have a vicious oral fixation. Also, it still set me apart from the wholesome image that I fit, and made people I met think twice to simply writing me off for appearances sake.

Just before leaving for the camp in Florida for the first time, and a few months after my Grandmother had passed away, I added the soaring eagle to my shoulder. I wanted a symbol of my achieving goals I’d set out for as well as my years in Scouting and for my Grandmother, the matriarch of my family. This was added without really anyone’s knowledge of my doing. Just one day it was there.

A few years later, on my 21^st birthday, after I had decided that I may just not leave the camp, and that reluctantly I had to admit that the camp setting was most likely my true calling in life, I added my ankle tattoo, a collaborative and intricate design of the island, the program, the activities, the milestones I’d achieved while at the camp, in a native design (tribal-ish, but loosely and interpreted of the Calusa Indians of the Florida Keys) with the slogan of the mindset all intertwined within itself.

Just after I quit my last day job, and decided that California was where I should be further pursuing the industry, I rounded out the tattoo on my shoulder, adding the purple mountain range for my Colorado heritage, with 5 peaks for the members of my family (the others for the family to come) and the river in the foreground signifying my years of swimming and my competitive nature (hence the shark).

All of these I have planned out without anyone’s knowledge. I may occasionally and casually mention some of the plans for them, but they usually are not so set that people expect me to go and actually do them. Virtually all of the body art or mutilations (depending on your stance towards them) were all done on a “lunch break” (working at a restaurant is hard to constitute a lunch break, as is working at a camp, and getting it done while the kids are out finding their own lunch and activities for the afternoon in Key West). Though, at the same time, when I actually did get them done, no one was ever really surprised.

The entire tenure of my time at the camp in Florida, my fellow staff and I always talked and planned on skydiving. I had wanted to go since I was 10. Every year that I worked at the camp, we would start a signup sheet, and research the locations to go between Key West and Miami. Every year though, we would fail to actually see it through. In an act of bull-headed stubbornness, mixed with determination and a little bit of crazy, on July 16, 2006 when I woke up in the morning, I walked around the camp, gathering my buddy (he was the only one to not get a choice) and asked the other staff members off that day if they wanted to join in a skydiving excursion. By 10am that morning we were all watching the 1^st person gliding down to the landing field. I of course called my sister, and left her a voicemail (I knew she wouldn’t answer, and therefore not attempt to talk me out of it) stating what I was doing, should they all get the message that I didn’t make it (morbid I know, but necessary nonetheless). Again, no one was actually surprised that I had jumped.

Since I was 14, when I rid myself of the “bowl cut” hair style, and started to get my typical All-American –Boy-Fade haircut, my hair has only minutely changed (with the exception of June 2004-Sept 2005) in the varying length of the top of my head (a mere 1inch to 1 ½ inch variation) highlighting, and the circumstantial styling (spiked and “messy” for play-time, faux hawk and conservative for professional/respectable requirements). The exception being the year that I grew it out to see what it would do. Because my peers had seen it grow, this wasn’t really a drastic change for anyone. If you’d like to know what my hair does long, go get a clown wig from Walmart, and imagine it dark brown. My hair is curly, and with plenty of volume, without any sort of organization to it. No matter how hard you try. I only left if long for that many months, because I had people that wanted to see it out, and I didn’t trust the Supercuts in Key West to do me right. Other than that, for the past 14 years, my hair has never really changed, and has somewhat given me a “high-maintenance” repertoire.

I have always been the friend that you call, and ask to come hang out that night, only to get the response: “Uh, I’m in (______ destination that is probably in a different time zone).” Just as I’m usually the guy you call and ask the “What are you doing?” to get the response that you know you could never even think to imagine. I guess you could say that I’m the friend you call to let you know that not everything is scripted or controllable, that weirder shit has happened and that no matter what, you’re probably going to survive it all. Probably.

So, this brings me up to speed here, or I should say last week, and is the preface to the short, blog, diary installments that you’ll see in the near future. This brings you to terms with the rumors, the pictures and the whispers in the wind that you may or may not have heard about me.

With everything going on in California surrounding me and my current work, things could not be going any better. I am working with some of the most talented, inspirational and passionate people around. I have been working consistently, and in multiple different media and outlets. I have made “partnerships” with some of the best people I could have to further my career along, up a course that I couldn’t be happier about and I’ve been doing it my way. I absolutely take direction and critique and lessons from those around me to help better myself, and that’s why it’s been working. I’m so excited for everything coming up, that I have done, and that I am doing. So, it was with these that I was starting to crave that kind of “crazy” again. I couldn’t figure it out even, until the other day, but it was all the things that I had discussed earlier. With change, I needed some personal change.

I had been designing a new tattoo in my head since 2005, involving my Captain’s license, my passion for Greek Mythology, symbolism amongst different cultures and just something new. I had been looking at adding a trident for Poseidon, and anchor for my Captain and a Turtle for the some of the other symbolisms. The trident represents Mind/Body/Spirit and Power. The Anchor represents Stability and is always associated with the Boat Captain. The Turtle is a sign of good fortune to come, the journey of life and wisdom. I wanted to incorporate all of these into a simple design, and needed the right time to do so. With everything going on in California the way it had, Saturday March 19 was the perfect time, and after shooting that morning, I drew out the design, and went into the parlor, walking out 2 hours later with my new tat on my shoulder.

For some reason (perhaps it was a shoot that was in discussions and a request from the producers there) I had decided that, for the first time in 20 years, it was time to buzz my head. I was a bit apprehensive at first, I fell on my head a lot as a kid and wasn’t sure the actual shape and or scarring involved, but was bound and determined to follow through with it. The prior shoot requiring the buzz had fallen through, but the new style was still on my mind. I knew that my travels coming up would not have really surprised anyone, nor would the new ink on my shoulder, but the hairstyle would probably raise a few eyebrows. Sunday the 20^th, I walked into Floyd’s Barbershop and had the girl there take it all off. I can’t lie, I kind of like it.

So, with renewed vigor and a reformed look, I showed up on set on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday for various filming taking place. I had people in surprise, which I was partially going for, but really was just hoping they’d be happy with the changes, fortunately they all were. On Tuesday morning, my little sister had her 1^st born. I became an uncle when she married last September, but that day by full blood the 1^st of the new generation of my family was born. Like I said, sometimes when it rains, it pours.

I had started to let everyone know that Weds March 24 I would be departing on one of the biggest adventures I’d ever tackled, 20 days in Australia and New Zealand. I am traveling with a close friend, who had approached and asked if I could do it. I knew that passing would make me beat myself up forever. I don’t know where we’re going and what all is on the itinerary, other than the Great Barrier Reef and Uluru Rock (from where I’m writing you today). I do know that I’m not spending more than 4 days/3 nights in any given location.

So, to wrap it all up, in celebration of good fortune and great changes I got a new tattoo, buzzed my head and jumped the hemisphere for a month.

Hope you enjoy the adventure!

PS- I've been trying to upload pics to this all day. Apparently you can't do that from the Outback. I'll post pics to this as soon as I can. 

That's Definitely What She Said

I cannot admit that like most red-blooded Americans when I received my Jury Summons I was displeased. I cannot decide if this is because I have a few family members and friends in the Legal System (professionally and by choice), or that I had spent a good deal of time in my late teens and early 20's playing chicken with the judicial system (I guess you could say professionally, but most definitely not by choice). For the record, I won most of these challenges, but the few times they won, they crushed me.

Of course, I was not initially pleased with my Jury Summons date. Originally, the Los Angeles County Courts wanted me to report, or rather remain "On Cal" the week of December 21. Oh, LA County and their need to be included in the Christmas festivities by inviting me to call them up every day for 5 days and see if I could join them for a day of fun in the Marble halls and Assembly rooms. Sorry, I had already made plans to return to Denver for the week, and spend it with my newly doubled-in-size family. Unfortunately, LA County Courts do not care if you have family or vacations already planned and payed for. They are your Number One priority upon receiving that envelope. Fortunately, they will allow you to postpone and reschedule your date with destiny.

For some odd reason, I had figured that there was never anything of importance or relevance come mid March, so the week of the 15th would be a great week to try again.

Now, no matter what you think of the judicial system, for those of us that are not currently or actively pursuing a long term relationship with the balances of Justice, you apparently can never sync up and be on the same page, ever. I only say this after being stuck in a room for several hours with disgruntled people so bitter, they were actually trying to schedule Parent Teacher conferences, Root Canals and Lady Gaga concerts for a more enjoyable experience once they were done with their civic duty. I only had to postpone, or keep a handful of producers and agents on call, leaving several of my shoots planned that week to be "if available".

While I was looking forward to the possibility that I could play a pivotal role in the determination of some of my community peers dilemmas, I was looking forward the possibility that I was going to get passed on actually having to report to the court house as the week had progressed and I kept hearing those awkwardly robotic produced words, "You do not have to report for Jury Duty on -[insert day of the week]- Please call back on -[same day of the week mentioned I didn't have to report]- to see if you have to report for duty."

Sunday told me no Monday duty. Monday told me no Tuesday duty. Tuesday told me no Thursday duty. Wait, what happened to Wednesday? I had been approached to shoot on Weds, and I left it up to the "if available" due to Jury Duty. If I never had it, then I could have worked. Also, I was to be on call for 5 days. Was that just 5 days, or was that the business week of the 15th? Was Monday now a possibility, cause I already booked work. Was Wednesday omitted because of St. Patrick's Day? Or was this another budget cut from the state of California? I tried to call and find the answer to all these questions, only to find out that the other budget cut, to try and make up some of the state of California's budget, was that the system was all automated, and unless you knew the magic password combination from Labyrinth and held the Golden Key, you couldn't find out anything, and there would never be a live person to talk to. Or at least that was what I had found trying to decipher the phone.

Thursday however, did not play as nicely as the rest of the week. In my hopes and with the light at the end of the tunnel so close, as I was leaving a shoot I did on Thursday I called in to see about my responsibilities for Friday. I found that, "You have been selected to report for Jury Duty on -Friday- at the LA County Court House at..." and then I stopped paying attention. My free friday, just became my day in the Halls of Justice. Only there would be no Superman in this one. Boo.

My other surprise to all of this, was when I went to call back again and confirm what time I was to be showing up at the court house. I had figured that I would be required to be there at 9am. You know, government building; "9-5" normal people business hours; they typical "day-job" routine. I did not expect to hear that at 9am I would already have been in the building for an hour and a half. 730am Call Time?! (yes, I used that lingo, give me a break, it is what it is. I was going to eventually be on stand right?) I get up at 730, I don't make coherent words until 9am. I most certainly don't understand multi-syllabic conversation before 9am, and you want me to play with the Law before then? Oh California, you have a great sense of humor.

I do have to admit, watching the sunrise was a beautiful experience, and one that I usually only reserve to the best of "dates", camping, and for some awesome reason, Vegas. So, my sunrise on Friday March 19 was nothing less than a classy experience. Even though it was from the 101 Freeway during rush hour traffic.

I brought all the materials anyone should when reporting to a respectable setting, with the most professional of people, methodically keeping peace, order and our democracy what it was designed to be by our forefathers: my iPod, drawing materials, my iPhone and a phone charger (unfortunately the building predated the necessity for an outlet to be placed every 3 feet for people to keep their electronics happily useful and as a distraction from all that is around us.

My fellow summoned and I sat through our light-hearted announcement of our responsibilities and duties which we were to fulfill, with the ever explicit information that we were now the Court's Bitch, and would and could be so for up to 7 business days from that point forward. I forget how this math all worked out, it was pre-multi-syllabic hours of operation.

The first batch of 50 summoned were called to report upstairs to a department room. I drew and listened for my name. I listened to the people around me discuss how many times they'd been summoned, where their kids were (hoping for school), what kind of trials they may be selected for, how not to attempt to be removed from the selected, and surprisingly how we were all looking forward to our day together.

At 10 my name was called in the second batch of summoned residents to fulfill our obligations at that point in the day to Department 37. Dutifully, I put away my colored pencils and notebook, coiled up my earphones and filed out towards the escalators to report for duty. I won't lie, felt a bit like Middle School. Love it.

My fellow summoned and I were filed into a small court room (I'm sure one they'd really use for a divorce hearing, not the gargantuan arena you see in the movies), to see the judge sitting on her post, as was the clerk, but the liaison and the 4 attorneys were all standing awaiting our arrival like the concierge of a fine hotel. We were sworn to answer any and all questions asked of us honestly and fairly. We were then told the basis of the trial for which they were going to be selecting 12 of us for. It had to do with a Lemon Law Suit. (I'm sure I'm not violating anything by admitting that much). She then asked if we knew any of the parties involved. The judge had also informed us that this particular case was expected to last 6 business days, starting the following Monday. Suddenly my enthusiasm to do my civic duty seemed like a curse.

Here's my deal: I have a few issues. Obviously some people have already picked up on this. I'm sure this is slightly apparent when you read my stories and have seen my interviews. For the short list: I have Kyphoscoliosis, A.D.D. and I'm Dyslexic. While my scoliosis is not very apparent, it does cause me back pain at times, and I cannot sit still for very long, ever; movies are about my max allowed timeframe, though I'll be very fidgety during all of that. I have great control over my ADD and my Dyslexia, and neither is really an issue, but I am like a cat, and I do get distracted very easily, and I can't really comprehend a lot unless I simply participate. When the judge asked about hardships, I had told her that as long as it was ok for me to stand and pace around every now and then, I was fine. Surprisingly, she said that they could probably do that for me. Score.

After a short recess, we all returned for the courts to call the 1st 14 members of the jury (for the unfamiliar 12 regular, 2 alternate jurors). This is when the real circus started. Every juror had to state their name, occupation, marital status, children and status, and previous jury experience. Then the judge had inquired about any and all legal background that any of the jurors may have. This included family and friends working in and around the legal system as attorneys, clerks, secretaries and the such. She also asked if there was any reason that they'd be biased towards the plaintiff or defendant for the case at hand. Pretty simple; make sure everyone was at least of some sort of sound mind. Several were not, at least to my expectations, and she dismissed none.

Then, the court was introduced to the presenting plaintiff attorney. His opening line (in that ever so TERRIFIED wavering/stuttering voice), "Good morning everyone, thank you ff..ff..fff..for beee.eee.being 'ere this morning. Az you cc..c..can see you're nottt the only onez here for the 1st ti ti ttime."

Poor guy, late 20's, pretty good looking was terrified out of his gord. In his defense, they were taking on a large corporation, we'll just leave it as one of the car manufacturers, with this Lemon Law suit, and it was one of his first cases before a judge I'm assuming. He went on to ask if everyone had a car; if they'd ever had any experience with a car breaking down; if they had any experience working on cars; pretty much he went on to ask 20 questions about anything having to do with customer service, the automotive industry and how everyone felt about the judicial system as a whole. Before he was, what I felt to be, halfway through interviewing the potential jury we were recessed for lunch.

I'll side note lunch. Downtown LA is gorgeous. I went to the bank, and I walked around a few blocks. It was warm out, so I removed my shirt for 2 reasons: 1- so that when I went back into the court room, with no windows, piled on top of several people, I wouldn't be the stinky sweaty guy. 2- It was a warm, beautiful day out, I wanted to get some sun! While meandering around the Disney Concert Hall, I had been asked by an Officer to please put my shirt back on, for I was in public. Yes, you cannot not wear a shirt in downtown Los Angeles. For the record, this is because it apparently scares the elderly.

When we returned to the court room, the trembling attorney had restarted his inquiry. Though this time, even he had mentioned that he think his nerves had settled. I could only have hoped for him that meant he took a couple shots of Jose to get this party going. He really only took about another 20 minutes asking the jury on the stand his questions. Not too bad. Though, in my book, the questions he was asking wasn't so much to qualify the competency of the jury selected, but really almost to call them for witnesses for his case. Just saying.

The defendant attorney had taken the stand to interview (cross examine really as well) the jury. She too seemed to be around my age, and the plaintiff's attorney, and she was very much so pregnant. I know I shouldn't assume that she was pregnant, but in the dress that she was wearing, and with her legs built the way they were, she was either Pregnant, hiding the basketball for the attorney's recess, or had a wicked tumor going on. She did have a bit more commanding authority (she didn't stutter or seem like she was going to wet herself) but she had the most monotone voice, and was beyond one of the most boring people I'd ever heard. 20 minutes of her interviewing was enough to have the judge call for another recess. Poor thing.

During this recess my peer were starting to get antsy. My friends and colleagues were trying to get me to stand up and just start yelling random biased slurs so that I'd get kicked out and would be free. It was then that I announced that this wasn't just a matter of not getting selected, it was a matter of not getting selected by 5p. I get kicked out of that court room, I go back to the assembly room and await another trial to call for jurors. But, if I'm not selected for this jury as close to 5 as possible, and there aren't any other trials looking for jurors that day, I'd be home free for the year. I was riding the clock.

When we filed back in, the attorneys dismissed 1/2 the jury for their own reasoning. I was a bit surprised to hear some of the dismissals. Seemed like the perfect juror for that attorney. 6 more people selected (I white knuckled getting called; it was still too early) and they began the interview process again. One poor woman would respond to everything, grasping at whatever she could to be dismissed from that jury. No dice. It almost seemed like there was a vendetta against the jury at that point. If anyone had stated that they didn't care for one thing or another, they stayed. Yet, those that said they'd be open, fair and just to all parties were sent back to the assembly room. Odd.

For the next three rounds of calls and dismissals, 2-3 people would be called, and dismissed after the interview. I'll admit, I started getting the feeling that the attorneys were stacking the jury with people that they knew, secretly. Sometimes I like to play paranoid conspiracy theorist too.

We had taken a couple more recesses to allow the judge to convene with the attorneys without us all sitting there. I was starting to get nervous. I think that, while I hadn't been instantly dismissed due to my concerns earlier, I was moved to the last potential juror called for that grouping of people. During the recesses I'd watch my fellow summoned pace around the hall, wondering if this was their time. It was like watching the condemned. I had to keep telling myself that we weren't the ones being called to stand, we were just the ones to select who the winner would be. And that didn't even have to be unanimous.

During one of the recesses, the plaintiff client and his wife had showed up to witness the selection process. As did some other people on the defending side. I can only assume them to be from the firm.

In one of the most comical (to me) called to the jury summoned, was a man from Silverlake. He had a catering business, and was single (read with disdain and a tone that said "I'm gay, and not allowed to marry in this state, so I'm recognized as single) and that he knew no one in the legal system. By the time this gentleman had taken "his" seat in the box (juror number 4) the whole drill was known. The judge nor the attorneys bothered asking the questions verbatim, and just let the juror tell his story. Mr. Silverlake had announced that he had purchased a Kia from Glendale Ford (none of the three of those factors mattered at all in the case) and that he had been given a bad key to the car (another useless fact). Then, when the judge asked if he'd be able to deal with a Lemon Law case objectively if he could look beyond that Kia situation that had no relation to this case, he stated he could. Then Mr. Silverlake had stated that he'd totaled that Kia, and had totally lost the car, because the insurance wouldn't cover that loss and or damage. Again, the judge asked if he could look beyond that Insurance claim, to objectively look at the Lemon Law case before him unbiased. He said he could. Had I not been running the clock, and hoping that we could keep that going for another half hour at least, I'd have slapped Mr Silverlake myself for his blatant disassociation to the questions. In an even more entertaining statement that he then went on to say, he despised lawyers because of how his insurance settlement had gone. Valid point, but still left field. Great slap in the face to Mrs. No-personality-preggers. He was dismissed, which actually surprised me at that point. We broke for another recess. Score.

Upon arrival back from that recess, there were 9 of us left to select from. In a matter of 10 minutes, we had been reduced to 5. It was like catch and release from a bucket. Called, recites name, occupation, biased, released by one of the attorneys. Another juror would try to intervene and cause commotion, only to be ignored like the "friend" no one likes. The judge seemed to be getting more and more displeased with the process going on before her. Also, by pure coincidence, the jurors they were selecting were the 5 next to me, right down the line. If I was in seat 6, they had chronologically taken seat 1, 2, 3, 4 then 5.

Now the kid in seat 5, he was something else. He gets called to stand, barely mumbles his name and that he's an "actor and artist" (read, holier than thou). Then he blatantly says that he could care less about the entire case, because he feels it's a waste of time. I shit you not, 15 seconds later, the jury is being sworn in. Kid says "I could care less about this case and feel that this is a gigantic waste of time. I don't care about it at all." Judge says, "Plaintiff, would you like to dismiss anyone?" Plaintiff states. "Pass." Judge asks the same of the defendant. Defendant says, "Pass". Judge asks the jury to stand, and swears them in. Done.

Now, mind you, I know that we are not in the home run just yet. The judge has not dismissed anyone yet, all she has done is swear in the jury, whom all looked like they'd just been sent to prison for the next 32 years. The 6 of us sitting in que all are tying to stifle smiles (it's now 3:51pm on a Friday, we're home free!) Also, the Kid is still standing, mouth agape, Man-Purse still slung over his shoulder, hands in his pockets. "Do I have to really agree to that? I said I don't care about this case. I don't want to chose a side, and could care less who wins this case. It's ridiculous. You're going to make me chose and do something I don't want to do?" As he slinging all of this, I'm still planning what I'm going to say when I get called up to his chair after they haul him off for contempt, which is exactly what the judge was threatening at that very moment. The judge pulls the attorneys to the side for a sidebar, off the record as the clerk announces that the microphone is not on at the time. Only, when they all return to their positions, she breaks for another quick recess of 8 minutes. Putting us back in the court room at 4pm.

The Kid is pacing like a pissed of child. The rest of us there are trying not to talk about what is going on, because we're not supposed to doing that. I start analyzing the selected jury at this point:
1-Jobless Mother, can't afford a babysitter, with a daughter that is mentally unstable and can't be home alone
2-Man so nervous that one of our breaks was so he could go get sick. Also, only understands 25% english
3-A guy that hasn't spoken at all since 10am, but has no legal ties, nor automotive ties, seems like a robot
4-The Kid, "actor and artist" who hates the courts
5-Girl that has admitted she has a learning disability
6-The A/V guy from the Zoo, who seems a bit off (he forgot that he was in law school for a year in '96)
7-Housewife (in her 60's+) of a retired lawyer, but couldn't name the type of law he practiced
8-Guy who no one understands, much less do we think he can understand us
9-12 I can't even remember, but they fit the same scary genre that was "we don't know what's going on, here much less anywhere" motif.

I felt like there was still hope for me if I was called. Even the Jobless Mother was claiming I was lucky I had missed out. I had reaffirmed her that we were all still standing in the hallway waiting, I wasn't out of the woods just yet.

That's when the weirdest thing happened. The liaison between the court and the jury came out and stated, "To everyone that reported to Department 37, thank you for your time and for serving, you are all dismissed. Please return to the Jury Assembly room to turn in your badges, you have completed you summons for the year." This did include the 12 selected and sworn in jury. We laughed. We jumped for joy. We joked around. Our somber selves all day long, had instantly turned to that of a happy group of people, out of school for the weekend, and free from any burden that we may have had. I honesty couldn't help but just laugh.

I have 2 assumptions as to what had happened in those 8 minutes.

1- The whole thing and day had been an exercise and practice for the attorneys to interview and select a jury. Their incompetency, or total perfect stacking of the jury had been either a perfect fail (hence why the judge was getting so upset towards the end of the process), or they had passed, and everyone was ready to move on to the weekend. I can't help but feel like this was really what was going on, and that this was a live practice run.

2- The 2 parties involved in the suit, had decided to settle it then and there, and not waste anyone's time. Just about anyone that had any sort of experience with a bad car, had all said that all was righted by time and diligence in returning to the dealership where they had taken the car in the first place. No on in the room was willing to grant the plaintiff any additional monies for the trouble of taking the Lemon suit to court, but they all felt that breaking even was fair. Like I had stated earlier, I kind felt like the Stuttering lawyer wasn't examining potential jurors, but interviewing "witnesses" for his case. With his client in the room, and the manufacturer being represented by the Pregnant-monotone, if it was a real case, I wouldn't be surprised if they just settled then and there, and went on Spring Break 2010 right then and there.

I still was a little disappointed that I didn't get to be interviewed. While I'd love to serve on a jury at some point in my life, I'd have loved to see the reaction on the court room's face when I stated, "My name is_______, I am a Porn Star and a Columnist for LA Weekly. I'm single, and I have no children. I've been summoned 5 times for Jury Duty, but never served. My mother and my step-sister-in-law are both paralegals,  my mom's boyfriend is an attorney, for civic cases and estate claims. My friend is in law school in San Diego, though I'm not sure what branch he's focusing on, my bad. I have had a bad experience with a car, my first car was a lemon, and had I been able to track down the 'business' that sold me the car, I sure would have sued him under the Lemon Law too, but I couldn't find him, so therefore wasn't able to. I'd try my hardest to not side with the consumer in this case, but let's be honest, I didn't own a car for 7 years afterwords because I didn't trust anyone to buy a car from. Oh, and I live in the valley."

Sadly, I was robbed of that experience too, for now.