The Charms of Orange County
I am currently living in Orange County. While the situation is lamentable and well worth a sad sigh in its own right, this past weekend my level of disgust rose so high that I almost took out an innocent 16-year old cashier at a bagel joint.
It all started innocently enough, but what can I say, residing here for more than 3 months has given me a pretty short fuse.
After driving 5 minutes to buy lunch and seeing no less than 25 Hummers/SUVs/Escalades with energy drink decals on the back windows, I was feeling rather peeved. Why do these kind of cars always have energy drink decals, by the way? Clearly it’s a form of brand-whoreage, but why all the the green slashes and pasted-on Rockstar bling, specifically? I don’t understand.
So I ordered and I was waiting for my food and I saw a copy of the OC Register on the countertop. I shouldn’t have looked - I know better. But I did, flipping past pictures of Arnold Schwarzenegger cackling astride a motorcycle and random opinion pieces bitching about illegal immigration, and came to the travel section.
The front page feature was about an exotic, far-flung attraction called … the Griffith Observatory. In Los Angeles. A mere 45-minute drive away. The rest of the section: exciting and eye-opening travel ideas in the fantastic U S of A! Now, I know L.A. is scary enough, what with its gang bangers and riots and ::gasp!:: Not-White People!!!!! So I can see that the OC Register editors were riding the line and taking a risk by suggesting that intrepid OC residents go there - and doing so on the front page, even! As for their other material, it reinforced an important question: Why travel anywhere outside our borders when such delights as Pittsburg and all of grand ‘ol Texas await you? Why risk life and limb going somewhere people don’t speak American or might possibly not have Del Taco?!? Well, if you’re a typical OC resident, I suggest you don’t bother leaving the country, ’cause aside from being fucking dumb, ignorant and offensive, you’d probably also be one of those people who wear shirts printed with the name of their own city and state. (A friend of mine in Scotland once asked if Americans wear those kind of shirts so they can get sent back to from whence they came by annoyed locals.)
Anyways, I felt bad for the kid at the counter when I clawed my food away from him with a snarl and ran.
… But I bet he drives a energy drink-fueled, ridiculously large truck, so in restrospect, I really don’t give a shit.
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I fucking hate the OC. Why does every kid there drive a F150? What could he possibly be hauling around day after day to warrant purchasing a gigantic truck? And his ego doesn’t count.