NYC to PALM SPRINGS

Feb. 7th, 2017

Flight UA 1961

Seat 2E

It’s only my third blog and I feel like I’ve told you everything already, well not really, but I do wonder if my readers (all three of you) will be annoyed when you realize that I only have four themes for this blog – SEX, ANIMAL, LOVE, DEATH and FUN (actually five) . Sometimes, I wonder if I only have four themes for my dances too.

Today we are en route to Palm Springs, sounds like a pleasure trip but it is really for business (well business for Chris and pleasure for me). I’m going as a tag-a-long, it’s a role I’ve learned to adapt to pretty well. The gentlemen sitting next to me, in seat 2F, is Chris – my very handsome partner, friend, and companion (…and maybe someday my husband). He’s sexy, funny, seriously ambitious and hard working…. even right now he’s rifling through papers. We both order the tamarind chicken. It’s actually pretty good but I start obsessing over the pretzel roll. I look around to see if other passengers are eating their pretzel rolls (basically calculating everyone else’s caloric intake). I tell myself, trying to practice self-discipline, “NO, I will not eat the pretzel roll…. NOT NOW.”  And since when did we start counting everything? We count our steps, our miles, our calories, our sleep, we count the days ’till Christmas and lets not forget we count our friends, our likes and our shares. “How do you measure, measure a year…” cue the soundtrack to RENT .

See I kind of have this compulsive quality. Which brings me back to the topic of Palm Springs. I’ve only been to Palm Springs once before and I must admit that the first impression wasn’t glowing. Perhaps it was because of the 115 degrees fahrenheit temperature or that the manicured green lawns were being watered 24/7 in the middle of the desert…. or was it the gated (more walls)  exclusivity of it all. The truth – that first impression was also tainted by my compulsive sexual behavior. Behavior that left me feeling alone and trapped in obsession. A type of empty obsession that sends you perpetually hiding on a hamster wheel hunting for sex. Was this constant craving (cue K.D. Lang  song) a way to lift me out of my loneliness, stress or denial…or was the constant craving a way to self medicate my uneasiness?  Whatever the case, don’t worry I have since learned a thing or two about self-care and no longer hide in constant craving.

Which brings me to my second impression of Palm Springs, that of the mid-century Hollywood hideaway. I’m finished with hiding, but I’m still glued to its allure (and a stay at the Ritz Carlton with sweeping views of the valley doesn’t hurt either). So as Chris hits the conference for the Oklahoma Medical Research Foundation, I hit the streets in our rental car – an (inconspicuous) banana yellow Camaro convertible (it’s fun and all but who decided to paint a car in taxicab yellow? Gross)

After a right on Frank Sinatra Drive, then a left onto Bob Hope Dr., passing over Ginger Roger Lane and then another right onto Dinah Shore Drive I finally arrive for lunch in the design district and then dash off for a quick self guided tour of some famous houses (the highlight being a Richard Nuetra  house) Back to the hotel and time to park the banana and grab a uber for a night out on the town (this way I can have a guilt free cocktail). But just as I was enjoying the colorful mid-century allure of it all my liberal blue bubble began to pop.

Chris to the Uber driver: “I hear the Obamas were in town recently, that they might be buying a house here”

Driver: “Oh don’t get me started on the Obamas…have I got some news for you…Michelle Obama is transgendered.”

– (Cue my temperature rising)

Chris: “Oh really, then what about the kids, how did they have children?”

Driver: “Those kids are from a friend and another thing…Barack Obama is a murderer.”

– (I literally can’t speak; I’m hiding in my own hide-away).

Chris: (thinking the guy is a conspiracy theorist: “Oh and do you believe the super-bowl win was rigged?”

Driver: “Yes”

And YES that Uber driver, who obviously is more entertained by Breitbart news then Huffington Post, was a white man – a white-mean-man, well actually a white man with a red face.

I don’t know how I kept my cool during that Uber ride, maybe it has something to do with my new perspective on life – a perspective that is nurtured by self care. But I must admit I like the idea of Palm Springs as a Hide-away but Hide-away from what? I no longer have anything to hide and by the way I’m no longer going to hide the fact that I ate that damn pretzel roll and enjoyed every minute of it.