Surviving the Whacky and Evading Punishment

My trip to Pennsylvania, though short, provided me a lovely snippet of my life's past. I met with family and family friends I hadn't seen in two to four years; I ate like some sort of Slavic royal duchess and enjoyed all the local delights I'd been missing; I also made a few pit stops at childhood landmarks - most notably, Waldameer Park & Waterworld, wherein I urged my very acrophobic mother to accompany me on any and all thrill rides which involved speed, stimulating lights and colors, and dizzying heights. Not surprisingly, I was only able to coerce her into riding one famed (kiddie) coaster -

Erie, PA's own Whacky Shack. Enter if you dare; but prior to boarding this ride, please forfeit your walking aid. I'M LOOKING AT YOU, GRANDPA. Waldameer is committed to safeguarding the public from maniacal geriatrics and their violent ways -

(If you've ever seen a grimacing, cane-wielding old man shuffle his way through a crowd...you understand. If it were legally permissable, he'd totally assail your ass with that stick, all the while hacking out some diatribe against the youths of today. And I wouldn't put it past him to do this while hiding out in some dark, mediocre haunted house. He'd fit right in with the display of skeletal mannequins draped in fake cobwebs).

Thankfully, my mother had no access to commonplace weaponry such as a cane. Being 57 years-old, she technically qualifies for senior discounts at most Pennsylvania theme parks. And like most demented senior citizens, she oftentimes will display invective and abusive speech towards young people and/or her own children. This is where that instinct kicked in last Sunday -

WOULD YOU JUST LOOK AT THAT DIP. Believe it or not, the 8 MPH velocity with which our cart hurled across the track was nearly insufferable to my mother. In a state of complete panic, she asserted, "Whaaaaat the ...NOOOOOOO!!! Oh. GOD!" Then proceeded to condemn my entire being for failing to warn her of such an unforeseen terror. I didn't catch the majority of her chiding; I was too busy fumbling with my camera in an attempt to digitally record her hysteria. I didn't get the shot, but here we are at the end of ride - I am almost certain she is looking for a discarded cane.

Shag Hag

Green shag carpet - still all the rage in PA.

Willing to Suffocate on Allergens for the Pleasure of Your Company

Tomorrow I fly back to Erie to spend a couple days with family.  My mother has taken all the necessary precautions prior to my arrival - she has amassed a stockpile of Claritin and, for reasons still unknown, five half-dozen packs of assorted bagels.  I theorize that I may have drunk dialed her one night and blathered my affections for That Thing I'm Hungry For RIGHT NOW!!!!!, which has resulted in this week's menu at the Peters household - Nothing But Bagels.  I guess I should be thankful that it is not celery and peanut butter, or raisins in tapioca.  Or something that came from the garden and was marinated in pollen before it became dinner.

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Ah, Erie, my (former) hometown!  It seems I can't escape it, even when I try.  Though I'm roughly 2,500 miles away, I'm still reminded of my birth city every time I sneeze or suddenly experience an excruciating, stabbing pain in my eyes.  I've had no severe allergy attacks since I moved away in 2002, but somehow Erie still keeps shoving its way into my system.  Most recently, it presented itself to me visually:

Taken in Chinatown, Los Angeles this past weekend.  I have to go out on a limb here and assume that NO graffiti artist would ever designate himself the pseudonym of "erie," because that's just lame.  Instead, I like to believe that natives of my hometown have formed an utterly hopeless gang and are attempting to expand their turf.  For whatever reason, this seems plausible to me.  Watch out, Chinatown!  If you aren't careful, bloodthirsty Erieites will subvert your society and redesign your already-confusing shopping centers to resemble semi-automatic handguns:

For those who aren't aware - this is the directory/layout of Erie, PA's Millcreek Mall.  I am not even kidding.  Go ahead and search it on Google Earth.  This is what I'll be seeing in just over 24 hours.

Palos Verdes Peninsula

This past weekend I made my way to the Palos Verdes Peninsula.
























More pictures to come, but notice the very upwards angle of this cliff. Naturally, I refused to venture too close to this rocky crag. Reasoning - I grew up in Pennsylvania. In PA, it is implicitly known that you've got a 32% chance of dying by way of A.) deer majestically leaping into your windshield, or B.) a giant slab of Appalachia coming loose and decimating you and your vehicle.

At least Pennsylvania warns its residents of this hazard with yellow reflective "FALLING ROCK" signs every 15 feet. California will caution you relentlessly over the perils of rollerblading, skateboarding, and amalgam dental fillings, but somehow menacingly large cliffs pose no imaginable threat.