Anti-Sacramento
“Why are you sad?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Okay, fine. Nothing.”
…
“Can I have a hint?”
“No. Please, it’s nothing.”
I’m sure it was nothing, but it’s still discomforting.
So I hate Sacramento, officially. Going there four hours early was a terrible idea, and I don’t know what I had expected. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea. Maybe just to get out of Auburn for once, to see something new. Well fuck that idea. It’s only when you’re out of Auburn do you realize how much you love it. Even going to fucking Roseville is like traveling into the bowels of a hell-forsaken wasteland. Auburn, now etched forever into my brain, symbolizes peace and tranquility, even though there’s really nothing to do in Auburn, it still has the pleasing sensation of seclusion and safety. You’re not scared to get out of your car, or nervous to walk around outdoors. But maybe Amy and I just saw Sacramento on a bad day. Or maybe we’re fucking pansies, too jaded by the all-powerful-greatness of Auburn. Whatever the case, I’m never going to Sacramento again. Not until it’s leveled and made into a giant amusement park.
That fucking homeless guy, who suckered three bucks out of me, is the first on my shit list. I mean, most of the time you walk by homeless people, avoid eye contact, and live on happily ever after. But this guy approached us, all fucking sweaty and disgusting, he fucking approached us, spilling out some prescripted bullshit about buying a salad. And by the time he was done talking, he was two feet away from me. It’s not my fault you’re fucking people out of their money for a living, man, and I’m sorry for whatever hell you went through before today, but why the hell did you have to pick me? And yeah, I could have said that I was running on empty, broke, cashless. But he’d persist. He’d lower the bar until it was down to pennies, but it would have lasted forever, and his fucking sweaty face was starting to make me nauseas. So I gave him three bucks, which isn’t really a lot in the long run, but he didn’t deserve it. And it makes me feel worse, somehow, for giving him money, probably worse than had I run away.
And get this. A few hours later, the SAME fucking homeless guy asks me for more money. So I say to him, in a tone of disgust and disbelief that I’m rather proud of, “I already gave you money” and walk away. Thus, I think I’ll say that from now on to anyone who wants my goddamn money. I’ll tell them I already gave them some, confuse them, and just walk away. How do they know? This guy didn’t. This fuck hole.
And why in Sacramento, a city of 412,000, do we end up next to the strangest people? The motherfucker on the bike in the park, who could have stopped at any fucking bench to take a rest, decided to sit in the one perpendicular to the one Amy and I were at. And of course, this is nearly as annoying as when some asshole takes the stall next to you in the bathroom, despite others being available. So Amy and I want to leave, because we don’t want to be anywhere near anyone in this fucking city anymore, and so we stand up. And this guy says, “Oh, you don’t have to leave because of me. I’ll be leaving in a minute” or some shit, I don’t remember. But since Amy’s not going to say anything, and I don’t blame her, I have to apologize to this motherfucker, and insist that it’s not him, it’s us. But of course he knows otherwise, and so I feel bad, and he’s probably a little hurt, and the whole moment of peace I was having with Amy is fucking ruined, because of this asshole and his decision to sit in that bench.
And what’s with the desire to sit near Amy and I? Do we smell good? The fuck in Subway, who sat in the table next to us and STARED, could have sat anywhere else. Not because there were a few other seats available, but because the place was fucking empty. I mean, it’s not as bad as the guy in the park, but at least the guy in the park didn’t stare at me every five seconds. Let me eat my fucking meatball sandwich in peace, asswipe, and sit at another goddamn table next time. Can’t you tell that Sacramento is pushing me to the edge of fucking insanity?
Not only are the people weird (and those are just the ones we came into contact with, but we saw a lot more, and most of them stared at us), but the whole goddamn city is bullshit. The one-way streets and the parking and the sun glare and the super-skinny lanes and the no-right-turns and the crosswalks and the cops-on-bikes and the freeway entrance and the letters and the numbers. Oh, what a fucking nightmare. It took forever to find parking in some multi-leveled behemoth of cement and congestion, which I later learned would have charged me twenty-something bucks for its services. Before that happened, though, I moved the car to a smaller lot, which charged seven bucks up front. Hiding in my car with the air conditioner running was the only good time, other than hiding in Starbucks, we had in Sacramento before the movie started.
In the end, we got to the movie on time. We had tickets to see Harry Potter 3 on the IMAX, and it was pretty damn awesome. Still, though, we had the dark cloud of the events prior to the movie hanging over our heads. Getting lost in the movie, literally, was nice. Of course when it was over we had to attempt driving around the city again, which was a disaster, and finding the freeway entrance was like finding a spelling error in a dictionary. Finally, though, we were homeward bound. Thank God.
It’s funny because that’s the second date in a row that turned out to be utterly disappointing. Not because of Amy or I, but rather because of bad planning or bad circumstances. Last time it was when we saw Bourne Supremacy and then tried to find somewhere secluded in Auburn, but discovered that we have shitty luck in that field, and just kept wishing that my mom was out of town, or that my grandma wasn’t in the coffeeshop studio, or that I had a van. So it wasn’t as fun, and the car was too hot with those blankets covering it. Really, though, that was nothing compared to the Sacramento fiasco. But these are all learning experiences. And I think when you go through bad experiences with people, it brings you a little closer.
But seriously, I hate Sacramento.
“It’s nothing.”
“Okay, fine. Nothing.”
…
“Can I have a hint?”
“No. Please, it’s nothing.”
I’m sure it was nothing, but it’s still discomforting.
So I hate Sacramento, officially. Going there four hours early was a terrible idea, and I don’t know what I had expected. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea. Maybe just to get out of Auburn for once, to see something new. Well fuck that idea. It’s only when you’re out of Auburn do you realize how much you love it. Even going to fucking Roseville is like traveling into the bowels of a hell-forsaken wasteland. Auburn, now etched forever into my brain, symbolizes peace and tranquility, even though there’s really nothing to do in Auburn, it still has the pleasing sensation of seclusion and safety. You’re not scared to get out of your car, or nervous to walk around outdoors. But maybe Amy and I just saw Sacramento on a bad day. Or maybe we’re fucking pansies, too jaded by the all-powerful-greatness of Auburn. Whatever the case, I’m never going to Sacramento again. Not until it’s leveled and made into a giant amusement park.
That fucking homeless guy, who suckered three bucks out of me, is the first on my shit list. I mean, most of the time you walk by homeless people, avoid eye contact, and live on happily ever after. But this guy approached us, all fucking sweaty and disgusting, he fucking approached us, spilling out some prescripted bullshit about buying a salad. And by the time he was done talking, he was two feet away from me. It’s not my fault you’re fucking people out of their money for a living, man, and I’m sorry for whatever hell you went through before today, but why the hell did you have to pick me? And yeah, I could have said that I was running on empty, broke, cashless. But he’d persist. He’d lower the bar until it was down to pennies, but it would have lasted forever, and his fucking sweaty face was starting to make me nauseas. So I gave him three bucks, which isn’t really a lot in the long run, but he didn’t deserve it. And it makes me feel worse, somehow, for giving him money, probably worse than had I run away.
And get this. A few hours later, the SAME fucking homeless guy asks me for more money. So I say to him, in a tone of disgust and disbelief that I’m rather proud of, “I already gave you money” and walk away. Thus, I think I’ll say that from now on to anyone who wants my goddamn money. I’ll tell them I already gave them some, confuse them, and just walk away. How do they know? This guy didn’t. This fuck hole.
And why in Sacramento, a city of 412,000, do we end up next to the strangest people? The motherfucker on the bike in the park, who could have stopped at any fucking bench to take a rest, decided to sit in the one perpendicular to the one Amy and I were at. And of course, this is nearly as annoying as when some asshole takes the stall next to you in the bathroom, despite others being available. So Amy and I want to leave, because we don’t want to be anywhere near anyone in this fucking city anymore, and so we stand up. And this guy says, “Oh, you don’t have to leave because of me. I’ll be leaving in a minute” or some shit, I don’t remember. But since Amy’s not going to say anything, and I don’t blame her, I have to apologize to this motherfucker, and insist that it’s not him, it’s us. But of course he knows otherwise, and so I feel bad, and he’s probably a little hurt, and the whole moment of peace I was having with Amy is fucking ruined, because of this asshole and his decision to sit in that bench.
And what’s with the desire to sit near Amy and I? Do we smell good? The fuck in Subway, who sat in the table next to us and STARED, could have sat anywhere else. Not because there were a few other seats available, but because the place was fucking empty. I mean, it’s not as bad as the guy in the park, but at least the guy in the park didn’t stare at me every five seconds. Let me eat my fucking meatball sandwich in peace, asswipe, and sit at another goddamn table next time. Can’t you tell that Sacramento is pushing me to the edge of fucking insanity?
Not only are the people weird (and those are just the ones we came into contact with, but we saw a lot more, and most of them stared at us), but the whole goddamn city is bullshit. The one-way streets and the parking and the sun glare and the super-skinny lanes and the no-right-turns and the crosswalks and the cops-on-bikes and the freeway entrance and the letters and the numbers. Oh, what a fucking nightmare. It took forever to find parking in some multi-leveled behemoth of cement and congestion, which I later learned would have charged me twenty-something bucks for its services. Before that happened, though, I moved the car to a smaller lot, which charged seven bucks up front. Hiding in my car with the air conditioner running was the only good time, other than hiding in Starbucks, we had in Sacramento before the movie started.
In the end, we got to the movie on time. We had tickets to see Harry Potter 3 on the IMAX, and it was pretty damn awesome. Still, though, we had the dark cloud of the events prior to the movie hanging over our heads. Getting lost in the movie, literally, was nice. Of course when it was over we had to attempt driving around the city again, which was a disaster, and finding the freeway entrance was like finding a spelling error in a dictionary. Finally, though, we were homeward bound. Thank God.
It’s funny because that’s the second date in a row that turned out to be utterly disappointing. Not because of Amy or I, but rather because of bad planning or bad circumstances. Last time it was when we saw Bourne Supremacy and then tried to find somewhere secluded in Auburn, but discovered that we have shitty luck in that field, and just kept wishing that my mom was out of town, or that my grandma wasn’t in the coffeeshop studio, or that I had a van. So it wasn’t as fun, and the car was too hot with those blankets covering it. Really, though, that was nothing compared to the Sacramento fiasco. But these are all learning experiences. And I think when you go through bad experiences with people, it brings you a little closer.
But seriously, I hate Sacramento.