Since I was out and about, I stopped by the market where I ran into the Archeologist.
Upon seeing me, she lit up and gave me a hug – always does, which makes me feel guilty for not wanting to hang out.
At any rate, she wished me luck at the Spooktacular but said, after attending all three years as well, she wasn’t going this time. She’d made other plans for several reasons. One being she’d won the costume contest last year and wanted to end on a high note, another being the pickup line at the park.
I told you incorrectly about this being the first time race day package pickup had been allowed. She said she took that option twice, and the lines were horrendous.
“The park doesn’t open until 5:00. To beat the crowd, you have to FIRST be in line at the park gate to get in when it opens, and then you worry because you don’t know if all the other people in line with you are race participants or felons coming into the park to do their community service.”
Festivities do not start until 7:00, I’d planned to leave here at 5:00 arriving a little before 6:00. I could have changed my schedule to get there an hour earlier, but who are those community service felons she speaks of?
What roles do they play in the festivities?
Are they the “volunteers” the race organizers use?
The guys serving as parking attendants and security look buff and rough … is that they?
I didn’t know about the felons and never encountered a problem before, but I’m a believer in signs, and the fact I was being given this information I took as a sign.
All of a sudden a long Saturday drive didn’t seem the worse choice.
So, off I headed this morning to Montebello. Driving so far out-of-the-area, I took the precaution of filling up the gas tank and made a stop by the tire place for a pressure check.
They found a slow leak caused by “a piece of metal” in the right rear.
Whew!
The Universe was looking out for me there.
The drive to the pickup point wasn’t as awful as I thought EXCEPT traffic slowed and looked to be coming to a complete stop 9 miles from the destination.
Great! This is what I expected of traffic heading towards Los Angeles, thought I. Feeling fed up, thinking I'd be stuck forever, ready to turnaround and head back home, I realized my outside slow lane was moving pretty good compared to the other lanes, and soon saw the problem was lookeeloos in those other lanes, slowing to look at an accident on the other side of the freeway.
Traffic began moving normally once past that point; however, looking at the miles and miles and miles of backup on the other side of the freeway, I knew there was no way I was getting back home any time soon.
Arriving at the pickup point, I found I’d told you incorrectly yet again – It wasn’t NEAR Old Town, it was IN Old Town, so after picking up that all important bib, knowing I couldn’t head back for a couple hours, I turned on the PokémonGo app, and found lots of interesting PokéStops (which eventually will be posted to my GO page) mixed in with the local attractions.
Mark wasn’t a Stop, but I found him interesting.
There’s this weird thing I do when I see a statue with a book … I always look to see what they’re reading.
This film maker in front of the Krikorian Theater also was not a Stop, but interesting nonetheless.
Pokémon in the area weren’t any different than those in my area, but I did catch a second Pickachu. Those little buggers are difficult to find and even harder to catch. They like to toy with you – show themselves, make a teasing noise at you, then run off before you’re armed and ready. So, I quickly threw a Razz Berry to slow it down and, instead of a regular Pokéball, threw a Big Ball to increase my chance of a successful catch, which is was.
That two, which equals 6 Pickachu candies. I need 48 candies to evolve so, unless I run into a nest of Pickachu, evolving one may be an impossible goal.
Finally back in my little unit, I'm exhausted and looking a little less forward to tomorrow. However, the show must go on.
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