Gogo Jones
Sports Editor
To anyone who has not been to the great state of California- shame on you. Considering there are two main halves of Cali, (NorCal and SoCal), I’ll focus on the second one, which I graced with my presence this past weekend. The purpose of my visit was to escort my cousin Hayley in her debutante ball. If you don’t know what a debutante ball is, then you’re a peasant and should probably get off the computer and back to the granary. Just jokes- a debutante ball is an extremely formal event in which a girl of age is “presented to society as a woman.” Basically, it’s an awesome party with really fancy clothes and champagne sorbet to cleanse your palate in between dinner coureses. I waltzed, made friends with a kid who goes to Stanford (got his autograph on a napkin in case he invents the new FB) and overall had a great time.
And while all of this was happening, my dad was down the road at the Coliseum going HAM with old frat bros and watching Matt Barkley deuce on UCLAs face. A legendary night for sure. The next morning I woke up to my little cousin pointing the barrel of his nerf gun at my face. However, I was able to use my superior hand-to-hand combat skills and successfully disarmed him. It was all fun and games until I shoved him into the bedside table and broke his clock. Fleeing the scene, I got out of the house and was immediately greeted by some prime Santa Monica rays.
My dad picked me up from the house in his Lambo rental (jklol) and took me to the hotel he was staying at- The Loews. The Loews Hotel is like the Plaza of the west. The entrance gate reads “For Bosses Only” , and they have a dope bronze statue of a businessman luggin’ his ripstick around (pictured above). My dad and I made our way to the pool and gypsied two lounges facing the sun. We fist bumped as my man Julio served up some ice tea and sweet potato fries. Pure bliss.
After our poolside sesh, my dad had some work to attend to and proceeded to drop me off at the Santa Monica promenade. The promenade is essentially a road completely blocked off from traffic and full of shops, restaurants and entertainment. I quickly nailed the essentials like Vans, Quiksilver and O’Neill, promptly skipping over J. Crew- I get enough of that ish in the 203. Towards the end of the spree my attention was grabbed by an extremely talented young lady playing guitar. A crowd had formed around the area where she was playing, so I sat down on a nearby curb and listened. She was really good-like really good. Halfway through one of her songs, a toddler started puttering towards her amp. His mother started after him, but the performer made a motion that it was okay. And while keeping the rhythm of her song, she flipped the kid a kazoo to toot on while she jammed. That moment had me smiling for the rest of the day.
When my dad called telling me it was time to head to the airport, I tossed a five in the basket she put out and grabbed a copy of her CD. Her name was Chelsea Williams, and I listened to her tracks on the way to the airport, perplexed as to how she hadn’t been signed by now. I checked out her MySpace, and it turns out I’m not the only one who thinks Chelsea could be the next big thing. For two years, she’s traveled around the streets of LA, four days a week, and has sold over 50,000 CDs on her own.
That mini concert in the promenade was the perfect ending to an awesome trip. I love New Canaan, and always will, but as of now I’m thinking the west coast is where it’s at. Surfs up BRAH 8)
