In my mind the first week was always going to be the hardest to get through. It’s like waiting for test results, you sweat it out, and go through all the stages, fear, depression, anger, and ultimately acceptance. I don’t think I’ve gone all the way through that last one (yet). In many moments I have to regulate my thoughts, otherwise I end up feeling worse about leaving Los Angeles. It just rings true that you don’t know how good something is until it’s gone.
So, what does a twenty-something do to drive away the blues? Beer. It’s true. The weekend was consumed with a building dread, a kind of worry that comes when you think that you’ll never leave the house.
That can always be remedied by a night out at the only place in Arnold where you feel like you can drink and not get hepatitis from the bar stool: Snowshoe Brewery.
It was a relaxed atmosphere, and not really busy for a Friday night. My brother and I sat, ate dinner and drank two pitchers the their Apricot Wheat beer. I remember the town as being small, but now it even looks smaller. The most excitement could be garnered from seeing how far you could get without hitting the gas pedal on your car, as you ride down Highway 4. I stared out the window, the Meadowmont Golf Course has installed a new 18 hole putting course.
The small town life has never been the kind that brings excitement. It’s a good place to relax, enjoy nature. Saturday was filled with more wholesome fun. I drove the twenty minutes down the hill to Murphy’s the only thing that really has changed, is that the hotel purchased a new neon sign. It succinctly says the MURPHY’S HOTEL, COCKTAILS. Its topped off with a little martini glass with a green olive in the bottom.
By the time I got home it was time to leave again. We drove out to the otherside of the county to meet up with some of my brother’s friends. It’s a funny thing coming from a small town, even more so from a county with nothing but small towns, you find yourself using the word county a lot, such as in: we had to go to the next county over.
So we traveled to the other side of the county. We sat and drank beer until 3am. It’s not really any different than the weekends I spent in Los Angeles. The conversation deals with marriage and children, two things that I have nothing to say about. The beers are good and the company is great. There’s not much else that you could ask for.
The big day came on Sunday. The day out to Wal-Mart. It’s a big day for all those that know what that means. When I was growing up and once Wal-Mart opened in the next county over it became a staple. A trip that had to be planned more effectively than a summer vacation, because after all, you only have a limited amount of time to get everything done. This usually involves at least four hours in Wal-Mart and another two in a grocery store.
We spent six hours there. Some things never change, no matter how many years you spend away from home.
Six hours at Wally world ahh yes.
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