Thankfully the ensuing day holds far too much for me to stop and linger on the mess off last night. Emily is at the hotel even before I am. I take my time changing and elect to shave so as not to appear completely disreputable while Emily lays on the bed and looks on, chattering away amicably. Eschewing Laguna Beach for the evening as the 133 is a morass of mudslides and collapsing million dollar homes we head out to the nearest entertaining spot: the Irvine Spectrum.
If I lived nearby I would have to come here everyday and just sit around people watching while I did homework, writing, surfing the web, whatever. It’s a delightful area made out to look like a miniature metropolitan center. Walkways are cobblestone not unlike streets one finds in the delightfully decadent old quarters in Champagne, IL; overshadowed by the eaves of the storefronts, rather than the low slung century old willows and balconies of the almost plantation houses. Streetlights at regular intervals don’t add much light, yet, since the sun won’t be setting for at least 2 hours but the ambiance is completed. There are stores of every type all over the place, trite, eclectic, sultry, and downright pricy; there is no delineation between one and the next aside from a shared wall, no rhyme or reason to them. We’ve been wandering and joking for at least a half fan hour before we find a place that looks promising.
Dave and Buster’s is one of those restaurants that try to get businessmen to rediscover their youth by adding varied games and activities throughout the place, but the guys in bad suits at the entrance just make it look pretentious. Initially we are turned away because of Emily’s age, but they let us in after seeing I am old enough. A quick survey of the place reveals that it is, empty, boring, and too polished for a night like this. And what a night it is…
Em and I have more fun with one another than we ever have, locked away as we are from all the usual social strictures and impingements affected by our families and friends; we simply get to experience one another. I needed this. P.F. Changs makes for a sumptuous meal, filled with loud boisterous conversation and harassment of our poor serving staff. Finally extracted from our seats, not in any real rush, we wander through the streets of our interim hometown streets chatting with each other about anything and everything. Like ferrets we are drawn into a store filled with bright shiny objects and wander around laughing and playing with them. Follow up with Cold Stone and we retire to the hotel to watch some Smallville, recently returned to me by the Manic Jana.
It’s late, we both have obligations in the morning, but as the show ends I am jarred by the thought that this is the last time I will see her before she leaves for Italy. While I am planning to be there in August, lord knows what will happen between now and then. I comment on the fact that we’ll be contending with an ocean next time we need to see one another. She laughs and much as I would like the company she goes home and I go to sleep, mentally preparing my defective ruby slippers for the journey out of Oz and back to Kansas the following evening.
