BFFs in the LBC

Everybody needs a good BFF. I'm so lucky I have three. "We are the four best friends that anyone has had ..." Zach G. pretty much wrote that song for us. Speaking of, if we were the characters from "The Hangover," who do you think we would be? I'm claiming Bradley Cooper right now. Dibs. Gawd I heart him.

Rachel, Katie, Erika and I have been some combination or permutation of best friends since the 1990s. Katie and Erika led the charges, rockin' the soccer field as Pumas. Katie and I befriended one another in 6th grade, her in a pouffy-sleeved white top, us getting into trouble for not checking in with our parents after school together one day. Rachel entered the WL picture sometime in late middle school. Erika and I "dated" the same guy (she dumped him, he asked me to prom as Plan B, I giddily agreed) sophomore year, and lived in walking distance of each other. Rachel and Katie sang to JC together at Willamette Christian Church junior year, and somewhere along the way I jumped on the God train to become their third wheel. And so the story goes. Eventually we all called each other our BFFs, and have been bridesmaids/maids of honor in each other's wedding. And now, despite the fact we live scattered across the West Coast (except me and Rach, just 13 miles apart and forcing our kids to be BFFs, too), we make plans to get together at least annually. As Erika and Katie make more trips to OR than we do to see them in Cali, we figured it was our turn to head south and soak in the SoCal sun. A girls' trip, and without kids AND pregnancy!

Day #1 - PDX to LGB

 

Rach and I met at the airport for our butt-ass early flight to Long Beach together. Initially, I kinda regretted booking a morning flight, but once we landed and were able to spend the WHOLE day all together, it was totally worth the 5 a.m. wakeup. We were greeted at the fab JetBlue terminal by a jumping and waving Katie, and then killed an hour before Erika landed from the Bay Area. We stayed at Katie's mom's condo in Long Beach, where Katie works, but north of where she and her husband, Scott, live in Newport. 

We spent most of our first day together at the grocery store. Kidding. Kind of. We did go to a few different markets three times in one day. We really did spend most of our time together at the condo (thanks for being so generous and sharing your condo, Cindy!); drinking champs; gossiping about everything (and everyone); researching micro-penises (peni? definition: more than 2.5 standard deviation below the norm, <3 inches erect), setting Erika up with an Instagram account ("awwthatssoerika"), and making sleeping arrangements, so that we would each get to bed each of the other three friends for one night, and vote on the best sleeping partner. Also? We watched Parenthood all together. The best.

Rach and Jo passed airport security bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to rock the flight from Portland to Long Beach.

Katie's adorable mug, fresh-faced and waking up for our Long Beach arrival.

A photo for Liz Depriest's, Nora - "like a suitcase" - because we just thought that IG was the cutest. And Rach kept telling me I looked like a supermodel in this pic, so I want to be reminded of that :)

Drinking champagne on the patio. You know you're in California when you get to wear tank tops and sunglasses in late October.

awwthatssoerika's first IG post. Ain't she a beauty?!?

Quick walk to the "beach" in Long Beach.

Measuring it out. We needed visuals to make sense of the micro-p.

Day #2 - Bitches Be Hikin' in the Hollywood Hills, and Ridin' Ferris Wheels in Santa Monica

It should have taken us just 39 minutes without traffic (yay carpool lane mid-week!) to get to the Runyon Canyon interest in the so-called Hollywood Hills. For us? About 2 hours. And after acai ("ahhh-hy-ee) bowls. Between Rachel, Erika, and Siri ("I disagree"), we couldn't figure out which way to actually got us to the entrance, but did enjoy from the scenic route. On our brief walk uphill, I made note of many tattoos, lots of fake titties and possibly bad Botox or lip injections, and a whole lot of small dogs. We also had our first "celebrity" sighting, which meant Rach could go back to P-town complete. Apparently we were enjoying the view alongside Heather somebodyorother from Real Housewives of New York. I admit that I did notice the very fit lady doing tricep dips sporting a GIANT diamond ring, and then the girls filled me in on her B-list status.

After our hike, we decided to keep the tourist train moving and hit up Santa Monica and the pier for lunch. Rach finally got her cocktail - a disappointing margarita. I, too, had to nurse some disappointment after the Zoltar fortune teller character charged me $1 THREE TIMES IN A ROW and never did read me an actual fortune. Fucker. Who's the idiot now?!? Seriously though, we got to ride a ferris wheel - and watch Erika conquer her fear of heights - and watch some really terrible street performers. It was the best. And then Rach got her first handbag and changed her own life right in front of our eyes. I might have bought another pair of cheap sunnies.

We made yet another trip to the grocery store, and took advantage of the hot tub time machine at the condo complex for continued clucking like hens well into the evening. Oh yeah, and drank more champagne.

Fearsome Foursome at Runyon Canyon, with just the "teeeensiest" bit of the Hollywood sign in the background.



Katie's excited about the back of RHWoNY Heather's head

Girls gabbing to a view.

Rachel, Jo, and Erika above LA.

We turned right.

Santa Monica pier.

Ferris wheel! The 9-year-old in me was ecstatic to ride high with my homies.

On the other hand, Erika wasn't so much into it.

"I look like Charlize Theron ... from Monster!" Second celeb sighting - laughs for days.

Day #3 - Catalina or Bust

Plagued with a disordered sense of direction, I kept asking Katie where LA was, where Orange County was, where San Diego was, etc., until I finally just looked at a map (on my iPhone, god I miss atlases). Perusing the massive land that is Southern California, I spotted an island with a familiar name. Inspired to explore somewhere new and touristy, I asked if we could go there, like LC and Lo from The Hills. Yeah, that's exactly why it's familiar to me. Katie, ever the secretary that she is, immediately phoned the ferry company and booked us rides to and from the next day. So. Excited.
 

Catalina Island is 22 miles off the coast, where we caught a fucking fast ferry from Long Beach to make the windiest of trips west to the island to my tourist heaven. It seriously took Katie at least 5 minutes to brush the squirrel's nest tangles out of my hair. That shit was intense. Erika went for a run (long to me, very short to her) in the hills, and the rest of us shopped around, tempering our excitement about the upcoming golf cart rental. Starved and unable to wait another 30 minutes to eat lunch with E, I grabbed a quesadilla on the little pier. And then we got hit on. Like, full-on hit-on. By men in their 40s. And 50s. I was not flattered. Quite the opposite, I was almost a bit offended that we seemed old enough to be on their radar or in their sights! They had Rachel at "our yacht and cook and bartender," Katie at "yeah, I know that law firm; because I'm divorced," and lost me at "we all met at the country club." All I can say is - thank.god.I'm.already.married.

The afternoon found us carting around a small portion of the island, listening to top 100 music and acting like 20-somethings, then sipping cocktails on some little beachy resort cove. So. Much. Fun. The boat ride back was spent mostly exhausted and trying to hide from the wind, warming ourselves with Instagram posts.

Bitches be on a boat.



Windblown.

Hello, land. Catalina's main harbor.

Just some girls and a gold cart.

View of Catalina from above.

Sharknado faces.

Besties and boats.

Sooooo tired.

Day #4 - Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Wake up, lollygag and eat yet another acai bowl courtesy of Rach's current obsession, and then to the airport for goodbyes :( Happy to see my family, sad to say bye to my BFFs.

I love these ladies like sisters. Or more than sisters, because I don't have any and don't know what it's like. Point is, they're called "best" friends for a reason. Because they truly are the very best!