Not much to report

I know I've been a little behind in catching everyone up lately. This hospitality business is tough! You don't eat on a regular schedule, you don't sleep on a regular schedule and you certainly have zero desire to work out after you've literally been on your feet for 8.5 hours minimum. But I've loved every single part of this experience. Well, besides getting locked out of the apartment, which, by the way, Landlord Laurie blamed me for as I so happily received some phone calls the next day from the guy whose apartment it is. But whatever, he believes me so I have nothing to worry about. The people are so nice. The weather is amazing. And, unlike SoCal, there is not much traffic to speak of. I've really met some awesome people and if nothing comes out of this jobwise, I think I've made some lasting friendships. As mildly apprehensive as I was in the days leading up to this journey, I'm very glad I did it. I've either been too busy, or too relaxed to think about anything work related so I have to sit and think on that one for a bit. It's so hard to believe that The Open starts tomorrow. Thankfully I have the day off. I think if I had to work another shift without a break my feet my actually fall off. I don't know how, but I mustered up the strength to work from 11-7:30 last night and meet one of my new friends out with her sister and room mate. I met them at a cute little tapas cafe in downtown Carmel. If I haven't said this yet, everyone in their life should take a trip to Carmel. It's just this really cute little town that you just feel awkward driving through b/c you should be on foot. It's just somewhere that you should sit and have a glass of wine. I feel like it's just a small Italian city in the US. Case in point, I show up a half an hour after everyone else and already have a glass of sangria waiting for me. It's like the city just gave me a big ole hug when I walked in the door. Two carafe's later, the four of us are heading out to a bar where our GM is performing in a band. I'm not even kidding. The GM of the restaurant at The Lodge at Pebble Beach is in a punk band. This is the moment I knew I was among my people. Here I am, in the bowels of a Mexican restaurant which, on occasion, is converted into a live music venue, watching my boss jam on lead guitar and vocals. All this after he offered to get us all Patron shots, which I graciously declined. It all almost seems too good to be true. And had I taken him up on his offer of shots, it might have been. Who knows how long we were there, but someone thought it would be a good idea to go next door to the "hip hop" bar. Now, I know I haven't been here very long, but I do remember being told that downtown Monterey doesn't really have many options. And if you were looking to go dancing, which for the record I was not, that you were going to have to go to this one place and that there were a lot of young people there. The clientele was not the issue in this place. The fact that no one told me Dave and Busters turned into The Platinum Club at 9 pm is what was blowing my mind. I'm not saying a real D&B, but remember when you would watch Happy Day reruns with your parents and they would all go down to the malt shop that had a juke box and when you put a quarter in, everyone started dancing. That's what this place reminded me of. On one side of the place there were air hockey tables and pool tables and I'm pretty sure some video game machines and on the other side, which is where I was dragged, was the dance floor illuminated with some sweet Disney laser light show beams. I'm not saying I had a bad time, b/c I didn't. But it is most definitely a place that one would go after they had been drinking for about 19-20 hours and this was their last stop. Little did I know, my escorts were at that point. I could have sworn that I was matching them drink for drink and really thought that I was ahead for a little while, but somehow the tortoise WAY outran the hare on this one. After getting jiggy wit it for about 2 hours, my friend was ready to go, or really too drunk to function. Here's where things get a little tricky. Her room mate drove them here. My keys were in the room mates car. The room mate was missing and went home. But the sister had the car keys. Trust me, last night it was more confusing than that b/c I had an extremely slooshy drunk girl in the mix trying to make everything right. So, we grab the car keys from sister, I attempt to get drunkstuff outside without getting her, or myself, arrested. Leave her on the curb while I run to the room mates car for my stuff. Come back to find her wandering in the middle of the street. Grab her, get her to the car where she proceeds to tell me to go straight to get to her house. When, within seconds, her eyes are closed and her motor skills are gone. And once again, I am in a town to which I have absolutely no direction and no clue as to how to get where I'm going. Thinking that waking her up might do more harm than good, I stop the car and get my GPS on the mission for me. It just so happens that it was way easier than my frantic mind was thinking. Upon pulling into her driveway she begins the drunk girl heavy sighing/breathing. Thinking that she's actually going to puke in my car, I quickly remove her from the vehicle and walk her to the door. As she's standing there, she can't find her keys....to get into her house. So, what does she do? Well, she reaches in through the window and just opens the door. HO-LY CRAP! You haven't been stolen yet?!?! Maybe this is the total distinction between the east and west coast. I wouldn't live on the ground floor in an apartment without thinking that hatchet Jack might be outside my window and this girl just reaching in, drunk as a skunk and opens her door. Needless to say, I received a call at 8 am this morning asking if I was okay and how did she get home last night. This kids is why you don't drink :o)