Huntington Beach to Redondo Beach

I can't write more about my thoughts from California than what I did five years ago. I don't think I can expand or improve upon that. It was my most reflective and abstract writing of the journey, and it remains one of my favorite entries not just of the trip, but of this entire journal.

But considering my reaction to Saving Private Ryan, I think it would've been interesting to show that movie to the general public back in January and February, the months leading up to the war in Iraq. Show it to people, then ask how many think we should've gone after the oil � er, after Saddam. I read recently how there wasn't much protesting the war at Notre Dame as there was back in the days of Vietnam and one observer attributed it to the fact that this generation of college students � and not just college students, but anyone 30 or younger � doesn't know war the way students did 30 years ago. We have no memory of it, no idea what it does, and therefore no fervent passion against it.

I also occassionally forget that I saw Kevin Bacon in concert with his brother, but what I'd totally forgotten was that they finished the set with "Footloose." HA! I still find that pretty hilarious, even now.

Well, since I'll be in the city all weekend, I should cover tomorrow's flashback:

Redondo Beach to St. George � via Las Vegas

Having visited only once, Las Vegas, in my memory, is an otherworldly place. It's there, it seems, to serve one purpose: tourists. Even its history involves tourism ��whereas so many other places create tourism from history, Vegas' history is tourism. But what makes it so surreal is its placement. It's a thriving metropolis nestled into the desert. It has no right to be there, but mankind managed to get water there and make it liveable. To arrive (or leave, as I did) at night is to see a city of lights appear out of the darkness. When I drove away, to the north, and saw it in my rearview mirror shining out of the blackness, I wanted to stop in the middle of the interstate and contemplate it for a while. As I drove on into nothing � no lights anywhere in front of me to give me any idea of what was out there � I relied on roadside reflectors and oncoming vehicles. It was like flying through space. I felt like I was floating. Except, you know, for the bumps in the asphalt beneath my wheels.

Oh, and how appropriate is this road trip guide? Well, it's summer, so it's not like a huge coincidence or anything.

Whatever. Shut up.