Yesterday was happily uneventful. I woke up at 6am to get to the Culver City Metro platform by 7am with a cautious amount of time to get to Union station. I opted to get a business class ticket, because it would guarantee me a seat on the train and not knowing when I’d arrive at Union, I wanted to make sure I got on that 830a train.
It takes 45 minutes to get from Culver City to Union Station.
When you’re three 20-somethings who refuse to gracefully give up your table top seats to a family of 4, a good thing to not use in your argument is calling Amtrak staff a “fascist regime” or repeatedly use the word “bro”.
Driving a UHaul one way from San Diego to San Francisco will take you approximately 9 hours, cost you a little over $400 to rent and $250 worth of gas.
If you have to make a long haul trip in a uHaul, invest in an FM Transmitter for your iPod/iPhone.
UHauls don’t have cruise control.
Though the drive was fine, when I finally arrived to SF, I felt awful and was dizzy as fuck. I guess hours on end of actively driving and trying to resist pitching the truck into a ditch will do that.
The only murder that took place is the bird who flew into the truck. I looked it in the eye as it flew into the cab, making me believe I willed it to kill itself.
Thank god for Andrea, if not for her, I would not have made it to the airport in time. She is a saint. An animal control saint who fosters kitties and has a great comedy collection of collectibles.