Alright ladies and gentlemen, buckle your seatbelts. We're about to go on a journey to de-mystify the far reaches of this great land of ours. At 5:30 yesterday morning, with naught but a duffle bag and a backpack, I left my cozy apartment in Somerville to board a Virgin America flight to the savage, untamed land of Los Angeles. Not for gold, nor celebrity-endorsed Botox specialists, but for adventure. For the next two weeks this will be a travel blog chronicling two woefully underprepared suckers as they brave the American southland.
My partner in crime throughout this debacle is Lauren, the comely young lass you see below.
|Mr. Froggy is our resident survival expert. We'll be drinking our own pee in no time.|
|That's a speed dent. It makes the car go faster.|
|We haven't even started yet and already a snag: because of the ducktail spoiler, we had to jury-rig the luggage rack with bungee cords.|