Friday, 5. September 2008.
Today is going to be quite complicated, so pay attention.
I'm in Oxnard at Cindy's, but in the afternoon I'm supposed to be in West LA to meet my friend Carrie, dismantle and pack my bike into her Toyota and go camping to Lake Arrowhead, near San Bernardino.
The next day I'm supposed to ride back to LA with Carrie, get my bike together again and then bike to Aliso Viejo in Orange County, where my friend Pero lives and which is the last stop of my biking trip.
So Cindy and I go to West LA, but we first have to stop at her hairdresser's because in 3 days she's flying to Toronto to meet her man and boy does she want to be pretty for her.
And at hairdresser's we stop. The lady is quite fast, so we stop for merely a half an hour. However, starring at myself in the mirror at hairdresser's I realize I must have lost at least 7-8 kilos on this trip because I look really skinny. Now I realize when a couple of people on this trip told me "You look somewhat different from your photos." Of course I do, I haven't weighed this little ever since I was in highschool. So I get up, leave the hairdresser's and get myself some food. I need calories and this is the place to be. The US I mean. ; )

This is Cindy and I in Culver City (which is part of what we usually call Los Angeles).

We're in West LA (technically Culver City) by the early afternoon. Her sister is flying to San Francisco, so we chill out at her apartment and goof around walking dogs and taking pictures. Cindy and I say our goodbyes and I bike to the intersection with the highway 10 to meet Carrie who's driving from San Diego.
How do I know Carrie? That's kind of a long story. I kind of know Carrie through Kim, although we have never met before. Kim came on a trip across Europe with her friend Mike and we met in Rome a few times. Kim is a cool cat who has an awesome Verbal Assault tattoo on her lower back. Whoever has the "Trial" LP by Verbal Assault knows the Seventh Seal scene on the back cover. Kim has that scene on her lower back. Besides that, her hardcore creds are playing with Nerve Agents for a few shows and sharing apartment with most of The Hope Conspiracy guys in Alston, MA. Who needs all these nerdy details anyway? ; )
So, in 2002 I visited Kim on my way back across the US. I had previously been touring the US with a couple of college buddies of mine, travelling across the US and visiting national parks. Because they only had 3 weeks' vacation (and I had 2 months) we made the deal where I'd drop them off at LAX and then drive the car back to New York City where we had rented it. This option was still cheaper than dropping the car off in LA, because the drop-off charge was something ridiculous (several hundred dollars) so we shared the costs and I took the car back.
On the way back I stopped in Boston. I remember my first day there. The weather was shitty and it was raining on and off the whole day. The students were just back in town for the start of the fall semester and since Kim was in Wisconsin visiting her dad I slept in the car the first night.
I remember washing myself in the restroom of some hipster bar/restaurant in Cambridge and shopping for records at a real good record store called Second Action (or something along those lines). I woke up in my car early in the morning when some sort of a parking attendant tried to put a ticket on the car. I drove off and checked some more of the city and eventually Kim shoved up and I spent the last two days of my vacation at hers (the Hope Conspiracy apartment mentioned earlier).
By the last day I had my last $ 60 in the pocket and was contemplating whether to go to NYC before my flight the next day in order to try to get a pair of vegan Oldskool Vans that they only used to sell at this store called 99X in Manhattan (thanx to Derek of Trial/Himsa for the info!).
Knowing how much it means to me, Kim encouraged me to wake up earlier and go to NYC in order to get those shoes. My flight was around 5 pm in the afternoon so I had all the time to get to the city, get the shoes, get to the JFK airport and drop off the car and get on my flight. And that's what I did. Or better, attempted to do.
Kim left for work around 8 am. I slept until half past ten, then took a shower and left for NYC. The ride was pleasant and the day was lovely, but as I was getting to NYC some doomy feeling was growing on me. I didn't know what, but I just had the feeling something would go wrong. I thought I'd either get stuck in the traffic or crash the car. And the closer I was getting the NYC the stronger the feeling was.
Finally, around 2.30 I parked in front of 99X in the East Village. I got in the store, found the shoes, the color and the size and happy as a little kid walked out of the store with my new shoes in the bag. I got to my car and because I had 3 backpacks full of stuff (my favorite clothes, records, gifts for my parents, my niece, my brother,... just tons of different stuff) I chose not to open the trunk where everything was but to throw the bag with the shoes on the back seat. Happier than happy I check the parkmeter next to my car. It was 2:45 and I had some 15 minutes left on it. I decide to go grab a bottle of coke and then drive straight to the airport.
It took me 10 minutes to get the coke and get back. I checked the parkmeter and I still had a few minutes left. As I was approaching my car I saw that a delivery vehicle (similar to those that postmen use to deliver post - without doors next to the driver) is blocking my exit to the street. However, there was a guy reading a newspaper at the wheel, so I just thought I'd get in the car, honk him and he'll move the van. I haven't felt less worrisome in my life. I had wanted those shoes for months and months and finally I got them. With a smile on my face I entered the car, put the coke on the cupholder and turned around to check my great sneakers again.
I turned right, but couldn't see them. I turned left, still nothing. I leaned back and looked between the back seat and the front row of seats, yet the shoes weren't there.
I was puzzled. Did I put them in the trunk at last? I guess I must've been losing my mind.
I got out of the car and approached the trunk. The delivery vehicle was gone by then. I opened the trunk and it was - E.M.P.T.Y. !
I just couldn't believe my eyes. There was nothing in it. I checked if that's my car I'm looking at and indeed it was. I felt as if someone took away my guts. I couldn't believe this was happening. I looked around and start stopping people on the street asking them if they saw anything. Nothing.
I entered all the surrounding shops, one by one, and no one had seen anyone or anything.
Finally, at a Chinese restaurant they let me call the police.
The police came in 10-15 minutes. They saw the car was broken into from passenger's side. That's exactly where the delivery vehicle was parked. The thieves broke into the car from there and then opened the trunk and took everything out. I had probably missed them by a little and that delivery vehicle was where my stuff was taken to.
They found no fingerprints and told me there were no security cameras on the street so they had no clue who to look for. It took me an hour to fill the claim.
By the time I got to the airport to drop the car off, it was already past 5 pm. My flight was gone and I was at the JFK airport without a jacket, without any baggage and moreover without any money. I had about $ 10 in my pocket and 5 items inside a little plastic shopping bag: a gift for a friend of mine (Psycho) that the thiefs didn't take as it was in the glove compartment, a roll of film that was in the car doors, a fanzine by my friend Mike (remember, the guy who travelled across Europe with Kim) a copy of Maximumrocknroll and a book on national parks. Me and a little plastic bag, like a total bum at the JFK airport.
I got to the check in and explained my situation. I told them what happened and that I only had 10 dollars with me, so I couldn't pay any additions or fines if there were any. They put me on a waiting list and in only 3 hours I was flying to Paris to catch my connection.
I was flying first class, for the first (and so far only) time in my life, but I was miserable. I had just lost everything I had with me and I had no one to talk to. I tried to sleep, thinking the world will change when I wake up. Well, it didn't.
I got to Paris in the morning. My connection was gone, so I went to the check-in to explain my situation, but this is what I got: "We're sorry, but there's a strike and the flights will start again regularly in two days."
In two days?!? I had 10 dollars in my pocket and I'm supposed to stay here for 2 days?!? I wanted to disappear, I swear.
Out of desperation I asked them if there's anywhere they can send me where I could get to Rome somehow. They said there was a flight to Zurich, Switzerland in the evening and maybe there I could find something for Rome.
I was desperate, poor and had nothing to lose. And Zurich it was.
However, I had to wait the whole day at the airport.
What was I to do? I took the 10 dollar bill out of my pocket and looked at it. I could get some food given I have to be on the road for the whole day at least or...
The food at the airports is overpriced anyway, so I got a phone card.
I left a message on my mom's answering machine. I just said everything was OK and that I would contact her when I'm back.
But I was burning inside. I had been robbed and I haven't spoken to anyone since. I needed to hear a voice. I needed someone to tell me how much it sucks to be robbed and how much they're sorry. I called my best friend in Rome.
She answered the phone. I said "Hey, I've got some bad news to tell." and then she said "I have some bad news, too".
That's where it hit me. That's where I saw everything clearly and where it wasn't "poor me" anymore. That's where I realized I only lost some physical possessions and as much as it sucks, that's all it was - physical possessions.
When she said she had bad news I knew what it was. Her father had died. I could only say how much I was sorry. And then she asked me what had happened to me. "Nothing" I said.
Two months later, I went to the post office where I have my PO box before work to pick up my mail. It was late October, just a few days before my birthday. I run a record label so back in 1993 I opened a PO box at the local post office. And even though I had moved 2 times since I have always kept the PO box.
I had gotten up shortly and was still quite sleepy when I opened the PO box and took the mail that was in it. Amongst other things, there was a decent size package without sender's address on it. And it was different from packages with records or CDs I usually get. This one was quite narrow and fairly light.
It's exciting to get a package in the mail, let alone a package you don't know who it is from.
So I walked a few steps towards the gate and opening the package while walking. Then I stopped.
The box contained my shoes. The same shoes that got stolen in New York.
I found a little note next to them and started to cry. I was the happiest person on Earth again. And I was crying not because of the shoes, but because of the note.
My friend Kim, when she heard what happened, called that store in New York. They still remembered me, most probably because of the police coming to the store to question them, and remembered what type, color and size shoes I bought. Kim ordered them using a credit card and then waited 2 months to send them over, so I could have them for my birthday. To this day, this is the nicest and most unexpected thing someone has done for me. And I still get goose bumps when I tell this story.
That's Kim.
So back to the present. I'm in West LA, heading towards San Bernardino on Highway 10 with Carrie.
Carrie used to live around the corner from Kim, but when I was in Boston she wasn't around. I met several Kim's friends (Mike, Julie, the guys from Garrison...) but not Carrie. So we kind of got befriended on Frindster. After Friendster came MySpace and so on. She was always Kim's friend I hadn't met, but none the less we kept in touch. So even though today we've met for the first time, it feels as if we're old friends.
So of course, on the way to San Bernardino we're stuck in the proverbial LA traffic and we call Kim. And surprise, surprise, just like 6 years ago, she's visiting her dad in Wisconsin. But fortunately, the mankind has invented the cell phone so we chat for a while and reminisce the old times.
The traffic clears up and we get to San Bernardino around 8 pm. Del Taco sounds like a decent option for a funky diehard vegan and vegetarian couple and we fill our stomachs before continuing towards the campsite.
On the way to the campsite, off the highway, my Tom Tom gets nuts and shows us streets that don't exist, tells us to turn where no road is laid down and pretty much drives us to a point where we both say "Fuck you Tom Tom!". We find the first campsite quite easily. It's full, so they send us to the second one.
20 more minutes of windy narrow road and we get to the second campsite. The host claims nobody has called him from the first campsite (I mean, we were next to the people who called to check out the availability of the campsite so either the guy's confused or his wife didn't pass the message to him) but he's got 1 spot and he'll let us camp there. Fine.
Since it's already dark, we set up the tent with the aid of my torch, then light a campfire and chat next to it.

The campfire, Carrie and myself.

I swear we were talking quietly, since we were standing next to each other, but all of a sudden from the darkness about 15 yards from us a voice shouts: "Could you please stop being so loud?"
We look at each other thinking the voice can't be addressing us and we keep talking, but from the darkness the voice shouts even louder. "Do you mind stop being so loud?"
I point my torch towards the voice and see the host's wife in pajamas. I ask: "Are you talking to us?"
She says: "Yes. I can hear you all the way to my camper. People here want to sleep."
I look at her in disbelief and sit back next to the fire. Carrie looks at me puzzled as well.
As we stop talking the lady realizes it's not us and asks me to lend her the torch to go and get to the real source of noise. We watch her disappear in the darkness and seconds later she's yelling the same thing at someone else. Finally, a few minutes later everything's quiet and she comes back to give me the torch and apologize.
We watch the fire go off and get into the tent calling it a day.